


The Other Golden Girl

by theothergryffindor



Series: The Last Sons And Daughters of Pureblood [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Angst, Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Training, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Idiots in Love, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Post-War, Quidditch, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:21:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 70,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27374131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theothergryffindor/pseuds/theothergryffindor
Summary: At eleven years of age, Muggle-Born Iris Sinclair boarded the Hogwarts Express unaware of the path fate had laid out for her. It was a path that would permanently entangle her within the lives of those she would come to trust most – Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger.Nine years later, Iris, now an Auror alongside Harry, is still recovering from the Second Wizarding War. Her scars are as raw as ever, the deepest one left behind by the Slytherin boy she foolishly thought she could protect.Iris hasn’t laid eyes on Draco Malfoy since his Wizengamot trial after the Battle of Hogwarts and her unresolved past with the former Death Eater returns without mercy when he's announced as Harry's Auror-In-Training.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Original Female Character(s), Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Series: The Last Sons And Daughters of Pureblood [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2123232
Comments: 84
Kudos: 140





	1. Impatience

**Author's Note:**

> For the convenience of my darling readers, you can also find The Other Golden Girl on Wattpad. (https://www.wattpad.com/story/246258140-the-other-golden-girl-d-m-x-oc)
> 
> The Other Golden Girl playlist. (https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1Bp99yi6IBuysBiUmqGwWA?si=zQrkXuPkTU2cLcR44mq16w)

**September 4, 2000**

Iris Sinclair was not a patient woman.

At the very moment, Iris’ patience was waning for two mundane reasons: Harry was late to the meeting _he_ had called and, more importantly, he was late with her tea.

"Honestly, Harry's flair for the dramatic is going to cost me my heart one day." Hermione grumbled as she paced ferociously in front of the floor to ceiling window in Harry’s office.

Iris was sure she was going to end up burning holes into the carpet beneath her.

Harry's Patronus had visited each of his dearest friends at sunrise and the message that had accompanied the ghostly stag, a vague request to meet Harry in his office later that morning, had sent the _Brightest Witch of Her Age_ into a tailspin of worry.

Iris had been nearing the end of a peaceful slumber when the stag arrived, and the sound of Harry’s voice had startled her from her dreams. The apparition had frightened her so thoroughly that she’d rolled right out of bed and smacked her head against the hardwood floor.

Iris rubbed the small bump forming near her hairline at the thought. 

Harry’s Patronus had caused a similar reaction out of Hermione. She had been in the process of smoothing her thick curls while reviewing her notes on the complexities of House Elf magic, as one does when the sun is just rising, when the stag had burst through her closed bathroom door.

The sudden arrival of the apparition had sent Hermione’s wand flying from her hand, and the notes that had been floating in the air in front of her were whisked out the open window and onto the street below.

Hermione had been the second one to arrive at Harry’s office, her hair pulled back in a tight knot as her attempt at taming her curls proved fruitless after Harry’s interruption.

Ron had been the last to waltz through the door, his red hair desperately needing a brush through.

Ron had slept through the arrival of the stag and had needed to rely on George to relay the message. The Weasley brothers shared the flat above _Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes,_ Ron helped his older brother run the notorious joke shop, and so Harry had taken the precaution of also sending the message to George.

George had barged into Ron’s bedroom immediately afterwards, covered in the steaming hot coffee that had safely occupied a mug before the stag frightened it out of George’s hands.

"Honestly, Ronald how can you stay calm at a time like this? My nerves are fried." Hermione groaned.

“Mione, breathe. He probably just had a fight with Ginny and needs an idea on how to get back into her good graces." Ron yawned as he reclined causally on the sofa in Harry's office. His eyes were closed, a pleasant smile plastered on his face.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Ron’s dismissal and Iris moved from her place in front of Harry's desk. She placed her hand on her best friend’s shoulder to stop her pacing and Hermione stopped in place at her touch.

"Stop pacing, you're going to ruin the Mary Jane's I bought you." Iris warned as she glanced down at Hermione's shoes, arching an eyebrow once her gaze returned to Hermione’s brown eyes.

"Oh, alright." Hermione sighed.

The witch crossed her arms and threw herself into Harry's desk chair. Iris squeezed her best friend's shoulder and Hermione placed her hand over Iris' and linked their fingers.

In any other circumstance, Harry's office was one of the most comforting places to be. Iris would recline in the armchair next to the window, downing her third cup of tea for the day, while Harry took notes on the case files he had just received.

Harry and Iris hadn't wasted any time in becoming Aurors; the two friends had been offered positions within the Office only a few months after the defeat of Voldemort and had accepted instantaneously.

Their reputations as _The Chosen One_ and _The Other Golden Girl_ held challenges as well as perks. While they were highly rewarded for their past and present efforts with the instant job offers, they were also given some of the most dangerous and time-sensitive cases. Harry and Iris were expected to do well, and there was no wiggle room for error.

"If he’s not here in fifteen minutes, I have to go. George needs help restocking after the Hogwarts students tore up the shop this weekend.” Ron sat up and stretched his arms above his head. 

"I’m with you. I have case files piling up on my desk and I’m in desperate need for a cup of tea." Iris removed her hand from Hermione's shoulder and wrapped one of her own black ringlets around her finger.

She would never admit it, because it would only worry Hermione more, but she too was feeling anxious.

Iris lived with Harry at 12 Grimmauld Place and it nagged at her that he’d left the townhome so early that morning that he’d needed to send his Patronus instead of knocking on her bedroom door. He’d been out of sorts lately, to an extent that Iris had noticed, but not even a shared bottle of firewhiskey had been enough to get him to spill his thoughts.

Another ten minutes passed, and Hermione had just begun summoning her Patronus to call after Harry when _The Boy Who Lived_ burst through his office door.

Harry's cheeks were aflame and caffeinated drinks floated in the air beside him. His raven black hair stuck out at all angles and the nervous grin on his face raised Iris’ concern to an entirely new level.

"Harry, what's going on?" Iris asked as she maneuvered around his desk.

“You should grab your tea first.” Harry warned as his eyes darted across the room. He flicked his wand to lay the drinks on the coffee table beside him and motioned towards Hermione, "I got you a coffee too."

The tone of Harry’s voice was threaded with anxiety and Iris eyed him suspiciously before surveying the cups. She recognized hers, _Earl Grey tea, dash of soy milk, two spoonfuls of honey,_ but her brow furrowed in confusion at the remaining three.

Ron didn't drink tea or coffee, why was there an extra?

Iris turned the extra cup around and noticed it was also marked with her usual. "Is what you need to speak to us about so serious that you needed to get me a tea for after the fact too?”

“Huh?” Harry’s gaze shot towards the cup and his eyes went wide. “Oh, uh huh, yeah, that’s what that is.”

“Thank you?” Iris questioned, the confusion evident in her voice, as she retreated to her spot by Harry’s desk. He nodded weakly and swiped his coffee off the table, promptly chugging half of the hot contents.

Hermione rushed forward and retrieved the cup that belonged to her. "Thank you for the coffee Harry but would you please tell us what's going on? I’ve been a nervous wreck all morning."

“I’ve got about five minutes to spare and then I’m out the door, mate.” Ron stood to match the stances of everyone else in the room. “George’ll have my ear if he has to open the shipment of Nose-Biting Teacups alone again.” 

Harry nodded weakly and pushed the bridge of his glasses back with his free hand. "So, uh, since Iris and I hit our two-year service mark for the Auror Office last month, _unfortunately_ , that means we’re prime candidates for mentorship for Auror trainees.”

"Is that what this is about?” Iris chimed in. "Harry we’ve been over this, I’m not participating. The Senior Aurors, who have _years_ of knowledge to impart, should not be allowed to force the responsibility of training onto the shoulders of the Juniors. As if we don't have enough to prove already?”

"Iris, let me speak.” Harry looked at her pointedly and she held her free hand up in surrender.

“Go on.” Iris mumbled as she drank from her tea, the liquid warmed her bones and cleared her mind.

Hermione joined Iris by Harry’s desk and nudged her in the ribs sharply with her elbow. Iris nudged her back and Hermione smirked, the initial gesture an indication of agreement with Iris’ interruption.

“As I was saying, we’re prime candidates for mentorship but that doesn’t necessarily guarantee a trainee assignment.” Harry sat on the arm of the sofa opposite the one Ron was standing nearby. “Iris and I are unique because most of our cases are shared between the two of us. As result, the Senior Aurors figured, since your opinion of the mentorship program is so _widely known_ throughout the Office, that you could simply aid in the training of who I've been assigned . . ." Harry trailed off and downed more of his coffee.

“Harry, I appreciate the suspense of this conversation as much as the next wizard but please get to the point.” Ron declared.

“I’m with Ron.” Hermione stated. “I’m sorry Harry, I know you wouldn’t have called us here without good reason, but I have a meeting with the House-Elf Delegation in an hour.”

“I know, and I apologize for the dramatics.” Harry sighed and locked eyes with Iris, the blood in her veins froze at the sight of the raw pity in his eyes. “The reason you’re all here, the reason I needed you to be here, was so I could inform you of who I’ve been assigned _in private_ before the papers find out.”

 _“In private?”_ Iris questioned.

Harry nodded and ran his fingers through his hair anxiously, giving the strands a mad scientist appearance. “Iris, I’m sorry.” He whispered and a lump formed in Iris’ throat, her heart racing from a rise of anxiety.

Harry kept her eyes locked with his as he shouted, “You can come in now!” 

The door of Harry's office opened wide and every nerve in Iris’ body was electrified at the sight of the stranger that crossed the threshold. The platinum blond hair, the collared shirt underneath an emerald cable knit sweater, the slim-fitting black trousers, and the irritatingly shiny black loafers made her feel as if she was seeing a ghost.

Iris' tea slipped from her fingers. 

The hot liquid splashed against her tights as the cup hit the carpet and the lip popped off. 

Grey met hazel when Draco Malfoy locked her eyes with his.

His lips curled to one side as he said, "Sorry about the tea, Sinclair."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! This is going to be a lengthy fic so get cozy and a grab a tea if you're reading this after it's been completed. 
> 
> Much love. xo.


	2. Ex-Death Eater

**September 1, 1991**

_Iris Sinclair slid open the train compartment door and was greeted with two boys covered in a mountain of candy wrappers._

_One wore an awfully large pair of round glasses and she enjoyed the way his hair stuck up at all angles. The other had a half-eaten Chocolate Frog in one hand and an overweight rat in the other, a cheeky twinkle ever present in his blue eyes._

_The bench opposite the two boys was decidedly empty but Iris still asked, "Can I sit here with you two? Everywh-"_

_"Everywhere else is full?" The boys beamed, their comforting smiles melting away her anxiety. "Come and sit." The boy with glasses motioned towards the empty bench and Iris smiled weakly._

_“Thanks, I was beginning to think I’d have to sit up front with the conductor.” She joked as she slid the compartment door shut behind her. She turned her back on the boys to throw her luggage next to theirs up on the shelf and then sat close to the window._

_Her eyes met the startling green orbs of the boy with the glasses first. “Harry Potter.” He said introducing himself, a grin plastered on his face as he extended his hand for her to shake._

_Iris wondered if he was always this friendly._

_His warmth made her feel welcome._

_She enveloped his hand with hers. "Iris Sinclair."_

_When Iris released Harry’s hand, the boy with the rat mumbled, "Ron Weasley" through a mouthful of jellybeans. He gulped down the candy and held up the rat in his hand, "This is Scabbers. He’s ancient, and a bit ugly, but my brother Percy took care of him before me so he’s basically a family heirloom.”_

_Iris nodded at Ron with a smile and watched as Scabbers leapt from Ron’s hand and stuck half his body into a red-striped angular box._

_"Would you like some jellybeans? We've got plenty." Harry waved his hand over their mound of candy. "Ron said some taste like soap and earwax so I would be careful."_

_"That sounds horrible." Iris cringed at the thought of eating something earwax flavored. "I'm not sure how I feel about magical candy just yet. I’d be just fine with a Mars Bar."_

_"I love Mars Bars!” Harry laughed. “Whenever I got one, which was rare, I had to eat the whole bar in one go or my cousin Dudley would snatch it out of my hands."_

_Iris' eyes lit up._

_"I have no idea what you two are on about. And Dudley is a horrible name." Ron stated as he popped an orange jellybean into his mouth. His face screwed up in disgust as he bit into it, "Vomit flavored."_

_Iris glanced at Ron sympathetically and then redirected her focus back onto Harry. "Are you Muggle-born too?"_

_She was desperate to find students that had grown up similarly to her. She wasn’t sure how many Muggle-Born students they were at Hogwarts in comparison to those that had grown up with magic their entire lives, but she was sure she was part of the minority._

_Her parents, Martha and Peter Sinclair, had only just learned of the existence of the Wizarding World a few months ago. Minerva McGonagall had shown up on their doorstep to inform Iris of her acceptance into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and had spent hours explaining Iris’ magical ability to her parents and Iris herself._

_"Not exactly, apparently my mum was, but I didn't know about any of this until about a month ago. I guess I didn't really know who I was until a month ago." Harry fiddled with his glasses nervously. "It's a long story."_

_"If you're Muggle-Born, that means you probably don't know about Harry!" Ron exclaimed._

_"What do you mean?" Iris asked confused._

_"Another long story." Harry groaned as he moved his hair to the side to reveal a lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead._

_Iris’ eyes went wide but she feigned composure. "We've got the time for a few stories, yeah?" She smiled at Harry and then tore her eyes from his scar to Scabbers laying belly up on the floor of the compartment. “Ron, I think your rat ate too many jellybeans.”_

_A confused expression crossed Ron’s face and Iris motioned to Scabbers._

_"Bloody hell." Ron grumbled when he laid eyes on the rat._

_Scabbers had laid one pink paw on his bloated stomach in an amusingly humanlike manner and the three First years descended into a fit of laughter._

**September 4, 2000**

Draco Malfoy shut the door to Harry's office and Harry cast a quick _"Muffliato"_ on the room.

“I’m going to have to reschedule my meeting.” Hermione mumbled in disbelief.

"This has got to be a fucking joke.” Ron’s eyes burned holes into Draco as he addressed Harry. “I mean, you’re taking the piss, right? You have to be or else I’d consider admitting you at St. Mungo’s.”

Iris glanced over at Ron to find that his cheeks were as red as his hair.

"Harry, you've requested a transfer, right?" Hermione asked, eyeing Draco as if he was a rabid animal primed for attack. "If not, I can go with you right now and we can figure this out."

Harry, expecting this reaction, looked over to Iris for help but her eyes were on Draco.

Draco leaned against the office door with his arms crossed, an irritating look of amusement plastered on his face as he watched the scene unfold in front of him. He had known this was going to happen and he was enjoying every second.

"No, it's not a joke and I'm not requesting a transfer." Harry slid from the arm of the sofa to the cushions and Hermione left Iris’ side to sit next to him. "Malfoy, this would be an opportunity to speak for yourself?" Harry waved a hand in Draco's direction.

"I don't feel the need to defend myself." Draco drawled.

Iris scoffed loudly at Draco's response and then surveyed the mess her spilled tea had made. She sighed at the sight of the empty cup dripping onto the carpet and the puddle of tea pooling around her heels. It was such a waste, but she figured she needed something stronger for this conversation.

Iris retrieved her wand from behind her on Harry’s desk and cast a silent " _Scourgify_ " to clean the floor, herself, and the splatters that had landed on the cuffs of Hermione’s pants. Afterwards, she stepped around to the back of Harry's desk as the others continued their flurry of words.

"No need to defend yourself? Are you mad? You're a fucking Death Eater." Ron spat.

 _"Ron."_ Hermione warned.

" _Ex-_ Death Eater." Draco clarified. 

"Once a Death Eater, always a sick fucking Death Eater.” Ron growled. “You taunted the four of us relentlessly at school, especially Hermione, and when that wasn’t enough your family tried to murder us and the people we love on numerous occasions.” He pointed towards Hermione's arm. “Do you remember what your _dear aunt_ did to her? You must since you just stood there and watched as she _begged for her life_ in your home.”

“Ronald.” Iris hissed from her spot behind Harry’s desk.

“What?” Ron raged as his eyes darted to hers. His chest heaved up and down ferociously and Iris was surprised to not find smoke coming out of his nose and ears.

A brief silence ensued where Iris silently dared the redhead to direct more of his venom towards her. A few more seconds passed before Ron resigned his anger, his expression transforming to regret as he noticed Hermione shifting her body uncomfortably on the couch.

"I'm sorry, 'Mione." Ron sighed as he met Hermione's eyes.

"No harm done." Hermione remarked. 

Ron closed his eyes and turned his back on everyone but Iris. He placed his hands on the back of his head and Iris watched as he practiced his usual breathing exercise to calm himself down.

Iris' heart felt ten times heavier.

"Granger." Draco spoke up, previously rendered speechless by Ron’s outburst. "It pains me to admit it but Weasley is right. I should've done something, _anything,_ that night. I was a coward, and I am sorry."

Iris curled her fingers into the wood of Harry's desk, her nails leaving a mark on the finish. Ron opened his eyes once his surname left Draco’s mouth, but he had kept his eyes trained on the ceiling. Iris glanced over at Hermione who eyed Draco suspiciously as if she was trying to find any hint of disingenuity on his face.

“Thank you.” Hermione said defiantly before sipping on her coffee.

Iris smirked at the tone of her best friend’s voice as she reached into one of Harry’s desk drawers. She grabbed the Muggle scotch and glass hidden inside and felt the eyes of the room on her as she shut the drawer with a bang.

"Iris, I assumed you would've had much more to say?" Harry questioned, singling her out which he knew she hated.

"Oh, trust me, I do." She replied haughtily as she placed the glass on the desk and popped open the bottle. "But I need a pick me up first."

"Isn't it a little early to be drin-" Harry started but Iris fixed with him a cold stare as she poured the scotch into the glass. She lifted the glass to her lips and cheered Harry before taking her first sip.

Draco met her eyes as the scotch burned its way down her throat and the air was knocked from her lungs.

"Potter, it seems my entrance has had its expected effect and I see no reason to stick around." Draco said, slowly tearing his gaze away from Iris. "I'll wait outside until you're ready to catch me up on the Greyback case. Granger. Weasel. As always, it was a pleasure." He bowed mockingly and when he righted himself, he was grinning from ear to ear.

Draco snatched the remaining tea off the coffee table before exiting the room, the other tea Iris assumed Harry had brought for her.

She ground her teeth at the sight as a memory resurfaced in her mind. She and Draco had taken their tea the same way since they were fifteen, since an accidental trip to the Hogwarts kitchens had resulted in him showing her how superior honey was to a spoonful of sugar.

At the thought Iris downed the rest of the scotch in her glass and the action promoted Draco to address her for only the second time since he had waltzed into the room.

"Watch the booze Sinclair. You don't want a repeat of the Fifth Year Halloween Ball, do you?" He sneered over his shoulder. 

Iris’ jaw dropped and he winked at her before exiting Harry's office. 

The door had only just closed when Iris sent the glass flying after him.

It shattered against the office door and she watched in satisfaction as the shards fell to the floor. She felt a brief release from the anger that had risen within her ever since Draco walked into the room.

"Iris!" Hermione, Ron, and Harry shouted aghast, their eyes wide.

"It slipped?" She shrugged her shoulders.

____________________________________

The tension in the room eased significantly once the weight of Draco's presence disappeared.

Iris cast _Reparo_ on the glass shards and returned the glass back to its place in Harry’s desk drawer. While Ron and Hermione sent Patronuses to various locations to excuse their late appearances, Iris grabbed the bottle of scotch by the stem and sat on the sofa opposite Harry.

Ron joined Iris when he was finished, Hermione joined Harry, and then, without pausing to take a breath, _The Boy Who Lived_ let loose his explanation for bringing Draco Malfoy back into their lives.

Harry explained that when Kingsley mentioned who the Auror Office had in mind for his first trainee, he hadn't been surprised. Draco had recently been released from a year and a half of house arrest, and a six-month stint in Azkaban before that, and the rumor spreading throughout the Auror Office was that a formerly Dark witch or wizard was looking for redemption within the Ministry.

Iris had also heard the rumor, but she figured Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, or even Gregory Goyle were better guesses than _Draco Malfoy?_

Two years ago, when Narcissa Malfoy lied to Voldemort and saved Harry from a third and final round of the Killing Curse, Harry had convinced himself that he owed her a life debt. Not only did he testify at her trial in front of the Wizengamot but he testified at Draco's as well. If not for Harry, Narcissa could've faced time in Azkaban instead of the measly six-month sentence of house arrest she was awarded.

If not for Harry, Draco would’ve never seen the light of day outside Azkaban ever again.

Iris took a large swig from the bottle of scotch as Harry continued.

Harry explained that he had requested a meeting with Draco before his position as Draco's mentor was finalized. Life debt aside, Harry knew taking Draco on as his trainee was going to be challenging and would disrupt his life as well the lives of those closest to him.

He wanted to make sure Draco was going to be worth the upheaval.

Harry described the way Draco swaggered into the meeting and how, at the sight of his innate Slytherin arrogance, Harry had been skeptical of his initial willingness to accept the arrangement. That was until Draco offered his sincere gratitude to Harry for saving him in the Room of Requirement and for saving his mother from the isolation of Azkaban. 

At the mention of yet another instance of Draco showing the smallest sliver of humanity, Iris took another sip of scotch. 

Kingsley and the Senior Aurors sat in on the meeting and after an in-depth discussion over how the mentor/trainee program worked, Harry and Draco agreed to the arrangement.

"I know you guys aren't happy about the situation but it's my decision and I ask that you respect it. The world needs unity more than ever and I'm willing to give anyone a chance that has a desire to change." Harry's eyes flicked between his friends and found their resting place on Iris.

"I'm sorry I didn't come to you first." Harry said to her. "But I think this could be good for you too." 

"I doubt that." Iris scoffed but the worry in Harry's eyes softened her tone. "It's alright, Harry. I can deal with it." She tried to assure him but even she didn't believe the words that left her mouth.

"I support you Harry." Hermione laid a hand on Harry's shoulder. "But don't bring him to Friday night at the Three Broomsticks? That's sacred ground." She arched an eyebrow daring him to contest her. 

"I would never." Harry laughed. 

"I respect your decision mate, but I still want to watch him crash and burn." Ron snorted. "Not just from my own issues with the snake but for everyone else he's hurt." Ron met Iris' eyes and she squeezed his hand.

From the corner of her eye, Iris noticed Harry fidgeting with his glasses and she knew the reveal wasn't yet over.

"Spit it out." Iris looked at him pointedly. 

Harry smiled sheepishly. "So . . . there's one last thing." 

_"Bloody hell."_ Ron let his face fall into his hands.

Harry met Iris' eyes again.

"He'll be living with Iris and I until he's finished his training."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the first flashback, there are many more on the way. The flashbacks are going to be primarily based on book canon but some film moments will be revamped as well to include our dear Iris. 
> 
> Much love. xo.


	3. Warmth

**September 1, 1991**

_Iris, Harry, and Ron waited patiently outside the Great Hall along with the other First Year students. They had been escorted there from the castle doors by Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall_ _herself and the witch had left the First Years to converse among themselves as she finished the preparations for the House Sorting Ceremony._

_One girl’s voice could be heard over the rest of the chatter and Iris looked over her shoulder to find Hermione Granger lecturing a trembling boy about keeping track of his pet toad. Hermione had barged into Iris, Ron, and Harry's compartment late into the train ride looking for said toad and the amphibian had magically appeared as soon as the First Years had reached the castle doors._

_On the train, Hermione had taken a break from her pursuit of the toad to introduce herself to Iris, Harry, and Ron. She had only spent twenty minutes in the compartment, but in that short amount of time Hermione had fixed the crack in Harry's glasses, warned Ron of the dirt on his nose, and bonded with Iris over being Muggle-Born._

_Iris had a good feeling about her._

_She caught Hermione's_ _eye and the girl smiled widely at her. Iris smiled back and waved, sensing the same type of warmth from Hermione that she felt with Harry and Ron._

_A few minutes later, Ron had been relaying facts about the four houses of Hogwarts to Iris and Harry when a voice louder than Hermione’s, one that deliberately wanted all attention to be drawn towards it, brought about a hushed silence._

_"It's true then, what they're saying on the train.” A boy with platinum blond hair drifted near the top of the stairs where Harry was standing with Iris and Ron. “Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts."_

_Iris watched as Harry scrutinized the boy, carefully assessing the situation at hand. "This is Crabbe and Goyle." The boy nodded at two stocky boys that had followed his lead and positioned themselves directly behind him. He then extended his hand to Harry and said, "And I'm Malfoy, Draco_ _Malfoy."_

 _Ron snickered next Iris and it caught the attention of Draco_ _Malfoy instantaneously._

 _"Think my name's funny, do you?" Draco’s lips curled in disgust as he jolted his extended hand back to his side. "No need to ask who you are. Red hair and a hand-me-down robe? Must be a Weasley_. _Doesn't your family live in one room?"_

 _Iris watched as the weight of Draco_ _Malfoy's comments struck Ron. Ron's cheer disappeared and morphed into shame and embarrassment. She predicted this wasn't the first time Ron had heard someone say such things about his family._

_And it enraged her._

_"Watch your mouth." Iris warned as she stepped upwards and became eye level with Draco_ _Malfoy._

_He narrowed his eyes at her. "And who are you exactly?"_

_"Iris. Iris Sinclair. And I don't appreciate the way you just spoke to my friend."_

_"Sinclair. . ." Draco ruminated on her surname, he enunciated the syllables as if they were poison on his tongue. "I don't know of any wizarding_ _family with that surname. You must be a Mud-"_

_"A Muggle-Born, yes." Iris stated proudly._

_“Muggle-Born.” Draco repeated with distaste as his eyes burned into hers._

_Iris figured that fire in his eyes was meant to scare her, but she wasn’t one to back down easily. The room went silent as Iris and the boy locked each other in a stare down and she took the time to study her opponent._

_Draco_ _would've had a nice face if it hadn't of been twisted with arrogance. His blond hair was slicked back with what looked like copious amounts of hair gel and Iris was unable to locate one strand out of place. His eyes bothered her the most, they were such a startling shade of grey that they were almost silver._

_She wanted to strike him._

_She knew what he had been about to call her._ **_Mudblood_** _._

 _A wizard had snarled the term at her in Diagon_ _Alley as if he had been able to smell it on her. Iris had begged the witch tailoring her school robes to tell her the meaning of the word and the witch did so only to give Iris an insight of the world she had been invited into._

_“I could make your life very difficult if I wanted to, Iris Sinclair.” Draco sneered._

_“I dare you.” Iris asserted._

_Draco arched an eyebrow at her defiance, the slightest hint of intrigue crossing his features as he surveyed her one last time before sliding his focus back onto Harry._

_Satisfied with Draco’s resignation, Iris stepped downwards and returned to her place next to Ron._

_"You didn't have to do that." Ron said, his cheeks a flaming red._

_"But I did. And I would do it again."_

_Ron grinned from ear to ear at her response and her heart squeezed as she watched the light return to his eyes._

_Moments after Harry succeeded in shooing away Draco_ _Malfoy for good, the doors to the Great Hall burst open and Professor McGonagall stood on the threshold, motioning for the First Years to follow her down the path cleared for the ceremony._

_Iris' eyes shot upwards to the ceiling of the Great Hall as she, Harry, and Ron followed Professor McGonagall and the rest of the First Years. The ceiling had been enchanted to resemble the night sky as stars shone bright and dark clouds drifted slowly above their heads._

_It was extraordinary._

_The older students were already seated at the four long wooden tables. The robes of the older students created a wave of color as emerald green morphed into navy blue and scarlet red transformed into sunshine yellow._

_Professor McGonagall_ _reached the end of the aisle and planted herself next to a stool with a weathered down hat on top it. "First Years!" She yelled, clapping her hands together._

_Awestruck conversation between the students continued and Professor McGonagall’s call went unnoticed._

_"All we have to do is a try on an old hat?” Ron’s eyes widened in disbelief. “I'll kill Fred and George. They told me they had to wrestle a troll!”_

_"FIRST YEARS!" Professor McGonagall_ _announced, her wand pointed at her throat._

_The inhabitants of the Great Hall went silent and Professor McGonagall surveyed the sea of students with satisfaction. She returned her wand back to its spot within her robes and retrieved a long roll of parchment. "When I call your name, you will sit on the stool and the Sorting Hat will place you in your house."_

_Professor McGonagall_ _didn't waste any time in beginning the ceremony and the first name called was a girl sorted into Hufflepuff._

 _Iris could hardly breathe. Her anxiety pressed against her chest and she wasn’t sure if it had formed over her displeasure at soon being the center of attention of the entire Hall or from the fear of being sorted into a House with students that would look at her the same way that wizard in Diagon_ _Alley_ _did._

_She hoped beyond reason that she would be placed in the same House as Harry and Ron._

_They had only shared a train ride together, but she felt safe in their company. Ron desperately wanted to be placed in Gryffindor as the rest of his family had been and Harry seemed eager on the House as well._

_Iris looked over at Harry who smiled weakly at her._

_If she wasn't sorted into the same House as Harry and Ron, she hoped she would be placed in the same House as Hermione._

_Iris looked around the crowd for Hermione only to realize that the girl was already on the stool, the Sorting Hat placed firmly on top of her bushy, thick brown curls._

_The Sorting Hat yelled "GRYFFINDOR!" and Hermione beamed. Iris watched as Hermione ran excitedly to the Gryffindor table and her heart sunk. What if she was the only one of her new friends that wasn't placed in Gryffindor?_

_The boy with the toad went next, Neville Longbottom, and he was also placed in Gryffindor. The next boy after Neville was placed into Ravenclaw and then it was Draco_ _Malfoy's turn._

 _The Hat had barely touched Draco's_ _head when it yelled, "SLYTHERIN!"_

 _Draco’s lips curled arrogantly, and Iris watched as he swaggered_ _over to the Slytherin_ _table._

_She felt nauseous. What if she was placed in Slytherin?_

_A few more names were called and then it was Harry's turn. There were only a few First Years left to be sorted and Iris felt Harry's absence the second he moved towards the stool. The moment Harry's name was called, the whispers began._

_" **The** Harry Potter?" _

_"Did she just say **Potter**?"_

_Harry and Ron had told her on the train about how Harry had defeated a Dark wizard known as Lord Voldemort_ _when he was only a baby. Voldemort_ _had tried to use the Killing Curse on Harry, but it had rebounded and killed him instead. Harry had saved the world that night, but he’d also lost his parents as they had sacrificed themselves trying to protect their son._

_It was a lot for Iris to wrap her head around._

_Harry sat on the stool and forced his eyes shut once the Hat was placed on his head. Iris saw his mouth moving. What was he whispering? She wondered. The tension in the room was thick as everyone awaited the Sorting Hat's decision._

_The Hat's thin line for a mouth was also moving as it seemed to be whispering back to Harry. Iris was baffled as she failed to imagine what kind of conversation Harry could be having with a hat._

_It felt as if years passed before the Hat announced its decision. "Better be GRYFFINDOR!"_

_The room erupted into cheers and Harry’s smile lit up the Hall as he made his way to the Gryffindor table._

_Two girls went after Harry, one was sorted into Slytherin_ _and the other into Hufflepuff._

_Then it was Iris' turn._

_Her palms were slick with sweat and the pressure on her chest increased in intensity. Her feet were frozen in place, her brain screaming at her legs to move as her limbs seemed to have a mind of their own._

_She could've stood there forever and that would've been just fine. She figured she could become the living statue of Hogwarts, the girl that was so terrified to get sorted that she just **didn't.** If she was never sorted, she could never be disappointed. _

_"Iris Sinclair." Professor McGonagall_ _repeated gently as she motioned towards the stool._

_Ron gave her a little nudge from the side and the action forced her feet forward._

_"Go on, I'm right behind you." Ron reassured her._

_Iris smiled weakly at Ron and took another step forward. " **Bloody hell**_ _Iris, pull yourself together." She mumbled to herself as she picked up her pace._

 _Once she reached the stool of impending doom, she glanced up at Professor McGonagall_ _and the woman gave her a reassuring touch on the shoulder. Iris’ cheeks were set aflame as she sat on the stool and the Hat was placed on her head._

_The eyes of the Great Hall were on her._

_She made eye contact with Harry who gave her a cheerful thumbs up and then her gaze locked onto Ron who, despite his best efforts to appear indifferent, looked just as nervous for his turn._

_"Interesting." The Hat whispered to her. "You face the same predicament as young Potter. You desperately want to be placed in Gryffindor, but I see a cunning, ambitious side to you. Slytherin_ _would suit you greatly. There have only been a handful of Muggle-Borns placed in Slytherin. You could shine there. Defy the odds."_

_Iris' stomach dropped. "I don’t want to defy the odds. I just want to be with my friends. Gryffindor **please**."_

_"As you wish, I am not one to deny a witch what she wants . . . let's go with GRYFFINDOR!" The Hat announced._

_Iris' eyes welled with tears. The Hat had listened to her._

_"Thank you." She whispered as she returned the Hat to its spot on the stool._

_She sprinted towards the Gryffindor table and, once she took the empty spot next to Hermione, the girl squeezed her hand and cheered, "This is all so exciting!"_

_Harry beamed at her from across the table and a couple older students, including Ron's older brother Percy, congratulated her on being sorted into the "best" House at Hogwarts._

_In that moment, Iris was the happiest she’d ever been. She wasn't worried about Ron, it seemed to be a guarantee that he would be placed into Gryffindor, and then Iris could continue building **all** of the friendships she had begun on the train. _

_As Iris watched the Sorting Hat place two more students in their respective Houses, she_ _was overcome with the strange sensation of being watched and her eyes found the origination of the feeling across the Hall._

 _Draco_ _Malfoy was staring at her with an entitled smirk plastered on his face._

_Iris' face went warm and this time she was the one that looked away first._

_Her eyes flicked back towards the Sorting Hat as it was placed on Ron's head and the Great Hall burst into laughter when the Hat announced loud enough for everyone to hear: "ANOTHER Weasley_ _. . ."_

**September 4, 2000**

Iris awoke in the armchair in her bedroom at 12 Grimmauld Place, her legs thrown over the side and a quilted blanket placed delicately around her shoulders.

It had been light outside when she had stumbled into her bedroom, drunk off the scotch she had shared with Kreacher in the study. Now, the only light in her room was coming from the glow of her fireplace and the lit candle on her desk.

After Harry revealed that Draco would be staying with them for the duration of his Auror training, she’d emptied nearly half of the bottle of scotch’s contents past her lips and then announced that she was taking the rest of the day off.

The second she swung the front door open at the townhouse, Kreacher had been waiting for her in the entrance hall. The House-Elf had undoubtedly been notified by Harry that she would be returning home much earlier than usual.

Iris' relationship with Kreacher had been difficult at the start.

She first met the House-Elf when the Order of the Phoenix began using 12 Grimmauld Place as their headquarters for the Second Wizarding War. Kreacher had been less than pleased that not one, but two _Mudbloods_ were comfortably roaming the halls of the townhouse.

Kreacher's hostility seemed to have calmed when Iris, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had used the townhouse as a haven during their search for Voldemort's Horcruxes. Unfortunately, once he had learned that Iris was going to be moving in with Harry, his old prejudice had returned full force.

"Mistress is rolling over in her grave. A _Mudblood_ living in the ancestral home of the Noble House of Black." Kreacher grumbled as he watched Iris bring in what little luggage she had. At the time, she didn't have the energy to do anything but laugh at the familiarity of his hatred.

"We'll be friends before you know it, Kreacher." Iris had declared. “I’d bet my life on it.”

Kreacher had mumbled curses underneath his breath and shuffled away.

That day, Iris had made it her mission to earn the House-Elf's respect. It was rare that she cared enough to want to change the mind of any being that believed her to be of a lesser class of witch, but Kreacher intrigued her. Iris had the inkling that Kreacher had been alone for so long that he didn't know how to be anything but cold and cruel.

It had taken the entire first year of her living at 12 Grimmauld Place but Kreacher had warmed up to her and she considered it one of her greatest victories. Her plan to win Kreacher over had started out with helping him clean on Sunday mornings . . . from a respectful distance per his request.

About a month after she moved in, Iris gifted Kreacher a pair of brown loafers. After handing the House-Elf the box they were held in, he had promptly thrown the shoes back at her and retreated to the basement. That night Iris had left the box by the basement door as a last-ditch effort and, surprisingly, Kreacher had appeared at the dining table the next morning with the loafers laced on.

The tide truly turned when the thought of offering Kreacher the old bedroom of Regulus Black came to her one evening. She pitched the idea to Harry, arguing that a House-Elf of Kreacher’s age, or any House-Elf that matter, should not be forced to sleep in a basement.

Harry wasn’t a fan of using his title as _Master_ to command Kreacher, he didn't believe in other beings being forced to serve others and neither did Iris. However, the only way that Harry could get Kreacher to leave the small cabinet of a room he occupied in the basement was by demanding he do so. 

Kreacher feigned resistance the entire trek up the stairs but once he crossed the threshold of Regulus' old bedroom, the House-Elf's body visibly relaxed at being in the atmosphere of the one he had loved the most.

"Can I help you pack up some of Regulus things?” Iris asked cautiously. “And then we can sort out what you want to keep?"

"No.” Kreacher had grumbled. “Kreacher wants to do it on his own." 

“We'll leave you to get settled.” Harry said while squeezing Iris’ arm sympathetically.

Harry and Iris had only just stepped away from the threshold of the doorway when Kreacher’s voice stopped the pair in their tracks.

"Thank you, Mistress Iris.”

She spun around at the sound of her name coming from Kreacher’s mouth and when she met his eyes, for the first time she found warmth and acceptance. “Kreacher knows you were behind this kindness and Kreacher is very, very grateful."

Iris had been on the verge of tears.

It was first time he had ever thanked her, the first time he had ever called her _Mistress._ She wasn't exactly fond of the title, but it was a sign of respect and affection coming from the old-fashioned House-Elf.

That growth in their relationship was how she found out that Kreacher had an affinity for scotch. And, despite being a quarter of her size, the House-Elf could drink Iris under the table.

He must've been the one to throw the quilt around her shoulders.

Iris stretched her arms above her head and reveled in the pops and cracks of her bones before standing. She then folded the quilt and gently placed it back on the armchair before walking into the ensuite adjoined to her bedroom.

She flipped on the light and examined herself in the mirror.

She was wearing an old Quidditch sweater of Harry's and grey joggers. Her curly black hair that usually hung past her chest was tied in a bun, more tendrils escaping the hair tie than she would have preferred. She borrowed more of Harry's old school sweaters than he could keep up with, and her hair, well it was what it was.

It was the puffiness of her hazel eyes and the gleam of sweat on her brown skin that alluded to her rattled state of mind. She ran her finger over her bottom lip and hissed at the tenderness, it had swelled from the anxious gnawing that occurred whenever she drank too much. 

"Bloody hell, Iris." She sighed. 

Her stomach rumbled in response and it was a reminder that she had barely had a bite to eat the entire day. She splashed some water on her face and wobbled her way to the stairs, realizing she was still a little drunk from her day-drinking excursion with Kreacher.

She had only just reached the second-floor landing when Harry’s voice floated up from the kitcen.

"Kreacher are you drunk?" Harry asked, a strong hint of laughter in his voice.

"Kreacher does not understand Master's concern. Kreacher is sober. Kreacher heard Master return and wanted to cook dinner for Master, that is all. Kreacher is Master's humble servant." Kreacher hiccupped and then a loud crash followed.

"For the love of Merlin." Harry groaned and Iris laughed loudly as she crossed the threshold into the kitchen. Kreacher had dropped a stack of plates, probably a set of Black family heirlooms, and Harry was standing over him shaking his head.

"Did Kreacher do that? Kreacher is a bad House-Elf, and old. Very old." Kreacher looked down at the plates and hiccupped once more. He must have kept on drinking while Iris napped, the hiccups were his tell.

"Bloody hell." Harry walked away from the shards and towards the lit fireplace, but only to stop himself from laughing in Kreacher's face. Iris snorted as she watched the visible shaking of Harry's shoulders.

"Hello Mistress, did you enjoy your nap?” Kreacher asked, teetering as his lack of balance favored one side of his body over the other. “Kreacher knew Master Regulus' quilt would keep you warm."

Iris' heartstrings pulled. "Yes, Kreacher, thank you very much."

"Is this your doing?” Harry chuckled as he spun around to face her and waved his arm in Kreacher's direction. “Nice sweater, by the way. You must not be _too_ put out if you’re still stealing my clothes.”

"We were taste testing the old scotch in the study and we may have gotten a little carried away.” Iris crossed her arms and glared at Harry. “And my frustration with you Harry Potter has nothing to do with what I may or may not steal from your wardrobe. 

Harry snorted and rolled his eyes playfully as Kreacher continued to hiccup loudly. 

“Master, Kreacher only wanted to make Mistress feel better. Mistress looked pitiful when she returned from the Ministry." Kreacher nodded vigorously. 

“Kreacher!” Iris scoffed. “I did not look pitiful.” 

"I have got to remember that leaving the two of you alone is like leaving First Years unattended in the Potions classroom." Harry chuckled as he retrieved his wand from his trousers and cast _Reparo_ on the shattered plates, floating the stack onto the chestnut dining table.

Iris opened her mouth to respond when a familiar drawl beat her to it.

"I excuse myself to the washroom and your house explodes, Potter." Draco appeared at the other end of the kitchen, exiting the hallway that led to the parlor and the washroom beside it.

Goosebumps rose on Iris’ arms at the sound of Draco’s voice and she narrowed her eyes at Harry for not warning her that the Slytherin had already infiltrated their home.

“Hey, look, Malfoy’s here.” Harry laughed nervously and threw his hands in the air. “What a surprise.” 

“Mister Malfoy!” Kreacher gasped loudly before _bowing_ to Draco, a sight that caused Iris’ jaw to drop. “Kreacher is honored to be in the presence of a wizard with ties to the Noble House of Black. Mister Malfoy is the spitting image of Mistress Narcissa. Kreacher is in awe.”

The amusement was clear on Draco’s face. "It's nice to meet you, Kreacher." He extended his hand and Kreacher looked on the edge of fainting before tightly gripping Draco’s hand with his own.

Iris had moved to Harry's side, the warmth of the fireplace easing the tension in her back. "Harry, please tell me that Malfoy is only here for a visit and he is not, in fact, moving in tonight.” She hissed. “You only just informed me _this morning_ that you’re his mentor for Christ’s sake.” 

“Today was his first day of training, which you would’ve witnessed if you hadn’t drowned yourself in scotch, so yes he’s moving in _tonight.”_ Harry whispered, sounding a bit agitated. “The Ministry wants Malfoy monitored at all times and the faster you accept it rather than fight it tooth and nail, the less painful this transition is going to be.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t patronize me.” Iris spat. “I know Malfoy living with us was the part of the deal you had to concede on, but I’m still allowed to feel as if my privacy is being violated.”

Harry’s brow furrowed at her accusation. “I wasn’t trying to . . .” He began to explain before being cut off abruptly by the disgruntled noises of Draco struggling to free his hand from Kreacher’s steel grip. 

Kreacher had yet to release Draco and the House-Elf was rapidly shaking the wizard’s hand as he continued to express his gratitude for being given the opportunity to serve a member of the Black family once again.

The sight of Draco’s struggle was enough to distract Iris from her agitation with Harry, the hilarity of the situation easing the tension that had filled the room the second Draco had entered.

With one last feigned smile and jerk of the arm, Draco freed himself from the House-Elf’s grip and stumbled backwards into the dining table. He exhaled deeply, his eyes widening as he noticed Kreacher’s attire for the first time. "Kreacher, how did you get your hands on an extra- _extra-_ small Slytherin Quidditch sweater?"

Kreacher tugged on the silver and green sweater that hung past his knees which he had matched with a pair of checkered black and green socks and his brown loafers. A knit cap would’ve perfected the look, but Iris had yet to find one to fit his large ears.

"It was Master Regulus' sweater. Mistress Iris transfigured it and many others so they would fit Kreacher." The House-Elf glanced over at Iris doe eyed as he took a seat on one of the dining chairs. “Mistress takes care of old Kreacher.”

“She sure does enjoy taking care of people.” Draco smirked his eyes darting from Kreacher to Iris. "But I never let her and it drove her mad." 

Iris felt her throat tightening anxiously at Draco's words. “Care to repeat that?” She exclaimed, her eyes narrowing as she took a step closer towards the Slytherin.

Harry’s nervous laughter returned full force as he placed a hand on Iris’ shoulder and maneuvered himself in between her and Draco. "Let's order food, Kreacher is in no state to cook and I am starving. Are you hungry?” He arched an eyebrow at Iris and her stomach rumbled once again at the mention of food.

Harry bit back a genuine laugh. “I’ll take that as a yes. Malfoy, what about you?”

“Famished.” Draco grumbled with his eyes still trained on Iris.

“Okay.” Harry eyed Iris and Draco carefully before backing away and retrieving his cellphone from his trousers. Being raised by Muggles meant that Harry, Iris, and Hermione weren’t so averse to technology as the rest of the Wizarding community. 

"Can we get Greek? I'm dying for a gyro." Iris asked as she tore her eyes from Draco and found a seat by one of the armchairs near the fireplace.

"Yeah, yeah. Malfoy that good with you?"

Draco drifted closer towards Harry, passing a yawning Kreacher at the dining table. "I've eaten Muggle cooking once or twice, it was bland, but anything's bound to be better than what they served us in Azkaban."

Iris’ brow furrowed. She’d been waiting for a moan or groan from Draco about having to eat anything that wasn't a magically homecooked meal and his agreeability disturbed her.

"It's settled, I'll get you my usual." Harry said. 

Iris stared at the fire and squeezed her legs up to her chest as she listened to Harry order from the Greek restaurant down the street. She could feel Draco's eyes on her, but she was content in her current ignorance of his existence.

"It'll be ready in thirty." Harry said as he shoved his cellphone back into his trousers. "I have to pop by Ginny's flat first and grab her and then I'll be back with the food. Iris, can you show Draco to the master on the second floor? I had Kreacher prepare it this morning."

"He can't find it on his own?"

“Iris.” He pleaded.

At his tone, Iris’ eyes darted towards Harry and her resolve melted as his green eyes pleaded with her to be civil.

“Fine.” She sighed and Harry nodded appreciatively. 

"Also, can one of you get Kreacher up to his room?" Harry asked as he exited the kitchen and drifted down the entryway towards the front door. "He's going to wake up in the morning with a wicked neck-ache if someone doesn't move him. "

Iris glanced towards the House-Elf and threw her hand over her mouth to hold back a laugh. Kreacher had passed out without any of them noticing. His face was turned towards the ceiling, a line of drool trailing down his chin as his mouth hung wide open. Draco audibly snorted at the sight, but Iris refused to look his way.

“It'll do you both some good to set some rules, or boundaries. Civility is all I ask for!" Harry shouted over his shoulder before slamming the front door behind him.

The weight of Harry's request pressed upon Iris' chest.

And aside from the presence of a sleeping Kreacher, this was the first time she and Draco had been alone since the Battle of Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regulus Black is going to be mentioned often as the story progresses.
> 
> Much love. xo.


	4. Inter-House Unity

**October 16, 1991**

_Every morning, in-between her first and second classes for the day, Iris would visit Hagrid the Gameskeeper at his hut on the castle grounds. Her friends joined her most days, Harry the most, but this morning in particular, Iris had knocked on Hagrid’s front door alone and she was beginning to understand why._

_“Hagrid, I can’t bring a baby Niffler to Transfiguration with me.”_

_Hagrid’s large hands were outstretched and the Niffler in question was belly up on his palms as it admired a Galleon in its paws. “It’s my Wednesday class with Slytherin and they would out me to Professor McGonagall in a heartbeat.” She continued._

_Creatures of the kleptomaniac variety were banned as pets at Hogwarts._

_“It’s only fer a couple hours, I’ll be back before lunch is ov’r and you have to go to yer Flying lessons. I just fed Nigel. He’ll be asleep the whole time I’m gone.” Hagrid pleaded._

_The Gameskeeper needed to pick up special fertilizer in Diagon Alley for his garden. He was looking to grow the largest pumpkins the Hogwarts’ Halloween feast had ever seen and the arrival of the baby Niffler on his doorstep earlier this month was complicating his plans._

_The creature needed constant supervision if it was going to survive into adulthood . . . and to stop it from causing copious amounts of trouble. The last time Hagrid left the Niffler alone in his hut it had sniffed out the stash of Galleons under the floorboards and had hid the coins in cracks in the walls._

_Hagrid still hadn’t managed to locate all of the missing money._

_He had tried to solve that issue by bringing the Niffler to Diagon Alley with him last week. It had snagged a memento or **seven** without Hagrid’s knowledge and now Hagrid was now patted down every time he entered and exited Slug and Jigger’s Apothecary. _

_“You waited two weeks to name him and you chose Nigel?” Iris exclaimed._

_“Nigel the Niffler ‘as a ring to it don’t ye think?”_

_Iris laughed. “Well, when you put it that way.”_

_She glanced at Nigel the Niffler once again and watched as the creature curled in on himself, clutching the Galleon closely to his chest. He looked mere seconds away from a peaceful snooze._

_Iris met Hagrid’s big brown eyes and sighed. “Oh alright, give him here.”_

_She stretched out her hands and the grin that appeared on Hagrid’s face could’ve brightened up even the darkest room. “Oh, thank ye, thank ye! I’ll be sure to pick ye up something special for the trouble.”_

_Hagrid gently placed Nigel in her hands and she slowly tucked the Niffler within the largest inside pocket of her robes. She was able to hide him and keep an eye on him this way, and as he was still a baby, he had more than enough room to move around if needed._

_Iris watched as Nigel curled up against the soft fabric of her robes and yawned, Galleon still in hand._

_“You owe me.” Iris jabbed a finger at the Gameskeeper before spinning around on her heel to begin her trek back to the castle. She stepped slowly to prevent Nigel from bouncing around in her pocket and arrived outside Transfiguration with only a couple minutes to spare before the start of class._

_Harry and Ron had yet to enter the classroom, as they tended to wait for her to arrive if they weren’t already together, and she approached them with the inkling that they already knew what she had been walking into when she had gone to visit Hagrid._

_When Iris cautiously revealed the contents of her inner pocket to the boys, they confirmed her suspicion all too well when they burst into laughter. Her face grew warm with fury as Harry and Ron revealed that they’d bet she’d be the one to give into Niffler babysitting duty._

_Hagrid had pleaded with the boys at breakfast the same way he had with her, but as they were still healing burns inflicted from feeding Hagrid’s Fire Crab last month, Harry and Ron had claimed to be late for a meeting with Professor Flitwick before class and had bolted away from the Gameskeeper._

_Iris had stayed up far too late the night before reading up on the history of the Merpeople in the Black Lake and had slept through breakfast. She’d barely made it to Charms on time and she would’ve been starving if not for Hermione snatching her a blueberry muffin on her way out of the Great Hall._

_“I knew that’s why neither of you wanted to come with me today!” Iris gasped. “You could’ve warned me!”_

_“And miss this?” Ron grinned cheekily. “Absolutely not.”_

_Iris groaned from annoyance and she smacked Ron with her Transfiguration textbook. As the redhead nursed the point of impact on his arm, Harry laughed loudly, and Iris rewarded him with a smack as well._

_“I’ll get both of you back for this.” Iris warned before stomping into the classroom, the sound of Ron and Harry's laughter following her to her seat._

_Iris' desk was situated in the left-hand corner of the classroom, closest to the wall and partially hidden from view from the rest of class. While the location of her desk eased the anxiety of her situation, unfortunately the issue of her tablemate could not be helped._

_Iris eased into her spot on the bench and adjusted her robes so the pocket the Niffler was sleeping within rested on top of her leg. As she slowly retrieved her materials for class from her bag, Draco Malfoy strode into the room and prepared to take the seat next to her._

_He shot a disgusted sneer her way, “Sinclair.”_

_“Malfoy.” She drawled, mocking his tone._

_He narrowed his eyes at her and slammed his Transfiguration textbook down._

_Her friends hadn’t fared much better than her in terms of tablemates. Ron shared a desk in the front of the classroom with Vincent Crabbe, Harry shared a desk towards the middle with Pansy Parkinson, and Hermione had been assigned a spot on the opposite side of the classroom next to another one of Draco’s cronies, Blaise Zabini._

_Iris adored Professor McGonagall but her idea to place one Gryffindor and one Slytherin at each desk to promote inter-house unity was bollocks._

_All fared as normal for the first half of class as Draco and Iris engaged in their usual battle of contempt. Draco “accidentally” kicked her in the shin numerous times, Iris “accidentally” knocked over his jar of ink and watched with glee as it spilled all over his notes._

_Iris almost forgot about the sleeping Niffler in her pocket . . ._

_Until the slightest movement to her right drew her attention away from Professor McGonagall’s lesson on Reparo and her eyes widened in horror at the sight of Nigel the Niffler slowly making his way towards Draco’s hand resting on his knee._

_The hand adorned with an obscenely large silver ring._

_Iris screamed inwardly, knowing she couldn’t move to grab it. There was a strong chance the sudden motion would frighten the poor thing and it would go scurrying out the door or farther into the classroom._

_She risked a glance at Draco and froze._

_He had noticed. His eyes were locked onto the Niffler, assessing the situation._

_“Malfoy.” Iris hissed._

_He stayed silent._

_“Malfoy.”She tried again._

_“What, Sinclair?” Draco spat poisonously._

_“You know what. I know you see it.”_

_“What? The leaves stuck in your braid? The mud on your robes?” He surveyed her briefly, lips curled with amusement, before returning his gaze to Professor McGonagall. “Yes, you oaf, I see the Niffler. My question is how did it get in here? And why are its beady eyes locked onto my family ring?”_

_“I’m . . . babysitting it.” Iris ground through her teeth, resisting the urge to shove Draco off the bench. “And his name is Nigel.”_

_“Nigel?” Draco’s brow furrowed. “That’s a horrible name.”_

_Nigel froze at the sound of his name being spoken not once, but twice, and Iris and Draco’s eyes darted towards the front of the classroom to avoid the creature’s gaze. The moment passed and Nigel quietly settled by Draco’s ring finger, reaching out with his tiny pink paws to gently twist off the silver band._

_“Malfoy, I have an idea.” Iris whispered, her eyes flitting between McGonagall and Nigel. “All you need to do is slowly bring your hand to one of the inner pockets of your robes and he’ll follow. Once he’s close, slip the ring off your finger, drop it into your pocket, and he should jump in after it. He’s only a baby so staring at your family heirloom should preoccupy him for the rest of class.”_

_“And why should I decide to go along with this little plan of yours?” Draco grumbled. “I could just as easily get McGonagall’s attention right now and bust you for bringing this thing to class.”_

_Iris exhaled deeply. She was going to murder Hagrid._

_“Because . . . I’ll copy my Transfiguration notes for you for a month.”_

_“What makes you think I want your notes?” He asked incredulously._

_“I know you didn’t do well on the last exam, I know you need higher marks to compete with Hermione for top of class, and I know Potions is distracting you from your other classes because you do the coursework in here instead of paying attention to Professor McGonagall.” She rambled, her face warming with embarrassment as she revealed all the intel she had gathered on Draco the past month._

_He was dumbfounded._

_“The rest of term.” He declared after a period of silence. He slightly moved his hand closer to the inside of his robes which caused the Niffler to slowly crawl across his knee and follow the shine of the ring._

_“What?”_

_“Copy your notes for me for the rest of term. Until after Christmas.”_

_“Absolutely not.” Iris exclaimed. “A month and a half.”_

_“You need something from me first, not the other way around.” Draco arched an eyebrow. “I want your notes for the rest of term, or I yell for McGonagall and you spend the rest of the month in detention with Filch.”_

_After Iris murdered Hagrid, Draco was next._

_“Fine.” She conceded._

_“See? Was that so difficult?” Draco smirked._

_She shot daggers his way and then watched as he led Nigel the Niffler to an inner pocket of his robes and slipped the ring off. When Nigel bounced in after it, Malfoy laughed loudly and goosebumps rose on Iris’ arms at the sound._

_She was surprised to discover that he had a nice laugh when it wasn’t at the expense of others._

_“Mister Malfoy, something you’d like to share?” Professor McGonagall announced, her wand pointing from her hand menacingly. “Or do I need to separate you and Miss Sinclair?_

_The heads of the rest of the students in the classroom turned in Iris and Draco’s direction and the smirk plastered on Draco’s face revealed just how much he enjoyed being the center of attention. “No, Professor. Iris and I have simply found your practice of inter-house unity to be quite rewarding.”_

_Iris smiled weakly at Professor McGonagall to corroborate Draco’s story and the witch eyed her two students suspiciously before continuing on with class. The concerned looks Iris received from her friends meant she was going to be thoroughly questioned at lunch and she dreaded the thought of having to speak about the bargain she struck with Draco._

_As if on cue, an expression of pure delight crossed Draco’s face as he retrieved his Potions textbook from his bag. As he began reading through the passage on Wiggenwald Potion that Professor Snape assigned for that afternoon, the Slytherin glanced at her once more and sneered, “Get to writing, Sinclair.”_

_Iris groaned audibly and laid her head on the desk in defeat._

**September 4, 2000**

“I’ll wake Kreacher up and then you can follow me upstairs.” Iris said, reluctantly meeting Draco’s eyes as she stood from the armchair. He nodded in agreeance and she brushed past him, her heart twisting at the all too familiar scent of his cologne.

“Kreacher, pop up to bed. We’re all settled here.” Iris whispered as she shook Kreacher’s shoulder gently.

The House-Elf woke with a start, eyes wide as he jumped up from the dining chair. “Kreacher is awake!” He shouted and Iris laughed softly at the sight. 

“Kreacher, you’re dismissed for the night.” Draco declared. “Go get some sleep.”

“You don’t have to tell Kreacher twice.” The House-Elf yawned as he stretched his thin arms above his head. “Goodnight Mistress, goodnight Mister Malfoy.” He _bowed_ for Draco once more before reaching out to Iris and squeezing one of her hands with both of his. 

And then, with a snap of his fingers, the House-Elf disappeared.

“I could get used to the bowing.” Draco said, the amusement clear in his voice.

Iris spun around on her heel to face him. “Watch the way you speak to Kreacher.” She spat venomously. “No one gets _dismissed_ in this house, we’re free to come and go as we please. Wizards, witches, and House-Elves alike. Understood?” 

“Understood.” He agreed with a smirk.

“Good, follow me.” She eyed him suspiciously as she brushed by him once more and then passed under the archway separating the kitchen and the entrance hall. She had only taken the first step up the staircase when a pile of variously sized luggage sitting mere feet away caught her eye.

How had she missed that when she first came downstairs? There had to be at least fifteen trunks.

“I hope you have your wand handy because I am not carrying those.” She looked towards Draco. “What did you do? Bring a year’s supply of hair gel with you?”

Draco chuckled and the sound of his laugh sent chills down her spine. “I didn’t expect you to lift a finger.”

He joined her on the first step and pulled his wand from the back pocket of his trousers. “And I haven’t used hair gel since I was twelve. You, of all people, should know that.” He winked at her and then focused on the trunks.

Iris watched the way his hand gripped his wand as he used _Wingardium Leviosa_ on his luggage.

Her face warmed as the memories of what those hands used to do to her crossed her mind. Her eyes seemed to develop a mind of their own at the thought, traveling from his hand to his face to his body, roaming every feature desperately. 

He had been a shadow of his former self the last time she had been this close to him, his body so lean and haggard that he looked as if he hadn’t eaten or slept in days. Now, his sweater pulled tightly against his chest as he lowered and raised his wand repeatedly, the muscle he had acquired apparent through layers of clothing.

The pointed angles of his face were maturely defined, not as sharp as they’d once been, and he’d grown out his platinum blond hair. The occasional cluster of hairs ended in a soft wave and Iris resisted the urge to reach out and wrap the strands around her fingers. 

He looked healthy, physically at least, and _grown up_.

“You’re staring.” Draco drawled as he finished stacking the trunks in midair.

“I was not.” Iris argued. “I was glaring at a rip in the wallpaper that Harry and I missed last weekend.”

“You’ve always been a terrible liar, Sinclair.”

“And you’ve always been a great one.”

Draco flinched at her words, but she pretended she didn't see it.

She turned her back on him and beckoned him to follow her up the stairs, the floating trunks hovering close behind. Once they reached the first floor landing, Iris pointed and explained what lay beyond the doors they passed. “The drawing room with the _archaic_ Black family tree tapestry is in there, that door leads to the study. . .”

Iris halted in her tracks, feeling a little foolish. “Am I just repeating what you already know? I shouldn’t have assumed. . .”

“My mother never brought me here.” Draco assured her and she watched as his eyes surveyed his new surroundings. “Aunt Walburga died when I was only five so there was never any reason for us to visit.”

“Well from what I’ve been told, and from what I’ve experienced living here, she wasn’t the most pleasant woman.” Iris explained as the pair resumed their trek up to the second floor. “Harry and I turned her old bedroom into storage. It’s where we keep all of the warm and invitingdécor she collected – the self-portrait that screams whenever she senses a Muggle-Born, the mounted heads of House-Elves, and, my personal favorite, the troll leg umbrella stand.”

“As a child, I was always so focused on my standing as a Malfoy, never a Black.” Draco chuckled dryly. “If I’d known half of what I know now about the cruelty of my mother’s family . . .” He trailed off lost in thought.

Iris glanced him, unsure on how to respond.

They spent the rest of the trek towards his bedroom in silence.

“This is it.” Iris said once they reached the door at the far end of the second floor. She twisted the doorknob and opened the door, ushering Draco inside. He brushed past her and the fireplace opposite the bed roared the moment it sensed someone in the room, the flames glowing a bright green.

Draco’s floating trunks crossed the threshold and Iris followed them in, leaving the door open behind her. She leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms as she watched Draco wave his wand and lay the trunks at foot of his bed. “Cozy.” He mumbled, looking over his shoulder at her.

“I’ll head out so you can get settled.” Iris said as she watched him lay his wand on the bedside table and sink onto the black and green flannel duvet. “Harry’s bedroom is on the fourth floor if you need anything. It’s the first door by the stairs.

Draco rested his hands on his knees. “And what about you?”

“I’m on the third floor, but I don’t expect you to come for me for help.” Iris said as she leaned off the wall. “Like you told Kreacher, you never let me before so why start now?”

“Iris.” He sighed and the sound of her name on his lips made her heart race. “Why did you agree to let me live here? As much as I enjoy testing your patience, I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable in your own home.” 

“Thinking of someone other than yourself? That’s new.” Iris jeered. “And I didn’t agree necessarily. Harry sprung it on me after it was already decided, I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“You still could’ve said no.” He locked her eyes with his. “Potter would’ve backed out if you’d asked him to, you know that.”

“Yeah, well, we’re adults and I’m trying to behave like one. I’m trying to be okay with this.” She rambled. “I’m trying for Harry, and only for Harry. He seems convinced you’ve changed.”

“And what about you? Do you think I’ve changed?”

“No.” She answered. “I don’t know if you’re capable.”

Draco snorted at her response but otherwise remained silent.

Iris turned her back on Draco, preparing to take her leave of him when Harry’s words from earlier rang through her mind. “ _It'll do you both some good to set some rules, or boundaries.”_

“Harry was right.” Iris began as she spun back around slowly. “If we’re going to be working together for the next few months, I think some ground rules need to be established. It would be best for both us to have boundaries set.”

“I agree.” Draco exhaled and, for the first time, Iris noticed the severe hints of exhaustion in his voice. “What did you have in mind?”

Iris parted her lips to respond but the resounding slam of the front door cut her off. Shortly after, the voice of Ginny Weasley floated up the stairs. “Iris Sinclair! Get your arse down here!”

A wave of relief rushed over her at the sound of Ginny’s voice. She was immensely grateful to redhead for giving her an excuse to save this conversation for another day.

“We can talk about it tomorrow.” Iris backed out of his bedroom, a look of confusion crossing Draco’s face at her hurried exit. “Get some rest, it’s been a long day.” And without waiting for a response, she disappeared from his view and rushed down the stairs.

The crushing anxiety Iris felt in Draco's presence lessened as she put a significant distance between her and the Slytherin, but she still had to pause outside the door to the drawing room to catch her breath. Her heart was hammering against chest and her lungs felt stretched thin, the physical effect he had on her was nothing new but the reappearance of it was startling to say the least.

She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall, counting backwards to center herself. Once she felt the beat of her heart slow, once her breath stabilized, she opened her eyes and resumed her trek down to the ground floor.

Harry and Ginny were unloading the food onto the dining table and at the sight of the Weasley, Iris rushed towards the girl and wrapped her arms tightly around her. If Ginny was startled by the action, she didn’t let on because she squeezed Iris just as strongly. “How are you doing?” She whispered in her ear.

The girls released each other from the embrace and Iris sighed. “Ask me tomorrow?”

Harry eyed Iris cautiously from over Ginny’s shoulder, holding a bag of food that was undoubtedly meant for her.

“Harry, we can talk tomorrow, just not tonight. I’m going to eat, run a bath, and then go right back to sleep.”

“Alright, but we have to hash it out at some point.” Harry handed Iris the bag with her precious gyro inside. “I know you’re upset with me, and you have every right to be, but don’t let this build up inside you.”

At that very moment, Iris resented Harry. She resented the fact that he was a good person, that he was capable of believing that even the worst people still had light left inside. She used to feel the same way, but the War had changed her, and she resented a different person for that change.

She couldn’t bear to look at her best friend with such anger lying within her veins. “Thank you for dinner, Harry.” She said, trying her hardest to sound truly grateful, and then she Apparated to her bedroom without another word.

The flames of Iris’ fireplace roared gold when appeared next to her bed. Her snow-white cat Nyx, who had been suspiciously absent the entire evening, was curled up in a ball on top of one of Iris' red, silk pillows. She kissed Nyx on the top of her head before drifting over towards her desk chair and ripping open the bag of food as she sat down.

She took the first bite of her gyro, her stomach grumbling with glee out the first taste, and her sole interaction with Draco replaying in her mind.

Boundaries, the word kept flashing across her thoughts. There needed to be boundaries. 

She was halfway through her gyro when a photo framed on her desk of her and Hermione from Fifth Year caught her eye. The two girls were proudly holding up the pieces of parchment that notified they had been chosen as the Gryffindor Prefects and Harry and Ron stood behind them, the boys’ faces transitioning from genuine smiles to crossed eyes and stuck out tongues.

Ron had breathed a sigh of relief that day, there had been a rumor that he was going to be chosen over Iris and he’d been distraught. Ron barely followed the rules himself and had been horrified at the thought of having to force other students to follow them.

They didn’t have a clue at the time that they would be forced to read Dolores Umbridge’s “ _Educational Decrees_ ” daily for the better part of that school year.

Her eyes widened as the memory sparked an idea.

She didn’t have to speak with Draco to set boundaries, she could just as easily put them to parchment.

Emboldened by the idea, Iris reluctantly set her gyro down and found some loose parchment and a half empty jar of ink in one of her desk drawers.

A few minutes passed and the scrap of parchment laid blank beneath her quill, not yet dipped with ink. Her mind was empty, void of any decree of her own. This needed to be done, there needed to be locked doors that separated her and Draco, locked doors that he could not open under any circumstance. And yet, as she sat there staring at the parchment, willing her hand to move of its own volition, the only thought that crossed her mind was the exact opposite of what she needed to write.

The thought that boundaries were irrelevant and that rules were frivolous, and that deep down, even if she did manage to write out a few sentences, a part of her would still want Draco to cross every line and break every vow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll get to delve more into Harry and Iris' work in the next chapter. Feedback is greatly appreciated so thank you so much to those who have commented, kudo'd, and bookmarked. 
> 
> Much love. xo.


	5. Third Time’s The Charm

**September 8, 2000**

Four days had passed since Draco had reappeared in Iris’ life – only four days since the former Death Eater had infiltrated the sanctity of her workspace and the tranquility of her home. Surprisingly, those four days had passed without incident, but not without extensive effort on Iris’ part. 

The past few mornings she’d made sure to wake nearly an hour earlier than usual – not that she was sleeping all that well anyway with Draco only a floor away. The additional hour gave her the time to dress, snag breakfast, and pop into the office before the rest of the townhouse’s inhabitants had even rolled out of bed.

After easily maneuvering her way out of Draco’s path in the mornings, Iris had been certain that the evenings would be her downfall. However, the Slytherin had taken her by surprise once again.

The past few evenings, Draco had met his mother, Narcissa, for dinner at various restaurants located within Diagon Alley. The restaurants tipped off the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly the second the mother and son duo arrived, and a sea of photographers waited eagerly outside for the prized moment they left the building.

The Daily Prophet was delivered to the Auror Office every morning, as was Witch Weekly, so the coverage was impossible to ignore. _Draco Malfoy: Looking Dashing After Being Freed From House Arrest_ and _Is The Young Lord Malfoy On The Hunt For A Lady?_ were a couple of the headlines Rita Skeeter had published so far.

“Did you get the Prophet this morning?” Harry had asked Iris yesterday. “Or Witch Weekly? I usually snag a couples copies for Molly and Ginny.”

“No.” Iris feigned innocence. “The owl must have gotten lost.”

She was the first one in the office that morning and the sight of Draco’s toothy grin on numerous front pages had led to her discreetly using _Incendio_ on the stack of newspapers and magazines.

The coverage of Draco ceased after his daily dinners with his mother, but he never returned to Grimmauld Place until well after midnight. Iris’ curiosity over his whereabouts during those missing hours had taken priority over her frustration with Harry and so she’d drawn out answers from her best friend over a bottle of Firewhiskey.

After Harry informed her that Draco escaped to Blaise Zabini’s flat near Westminster in the evenings, with Pansy Parkinson in tow, Iris had tried to play off her inquiry as alcohol-induced interest, but he’d had seen right through her.

“You’re a terrible liar.” Harry had slurred after his fourth glass.

“So, I’ve been told.” Iris agreed before downing her whiskey.

As for the workday itself, Iris had found avoiding Draco to be impossible. Harry was her go-to consult on most of her cases and, as one would expect, Draco was glued to his mentor’s side. He would observe while she and Harry discussed witness reports and evidence collection and she struggled to focus with his overwhelming presence so close by.

Her distracted concentration was amplified tenfold during the two-to-three-hour period she and Harry spent discussing their case on Fenrir Greyback – a case they’d failed to close since their first months working within the Auror Office.

Draco lounged on the sofa in her office, reading through the reports on Greyback’s victims since the Battle of Hogwarts, while Harry and Iris examined interview after interview of wizards and witches claiming to have spotted the werewolf in recent months. It was a ritual that left Harry and Iris with strong desires for Firewhiskey as they listened to the same recounts over and over again.

The hunt for the remainder of Voldemort’s followers seemed endless. There were less than twenty left on the run, the rest imprisoned in Azkaban or dead, but each time the Auror Office caught one Dark witch or wizard, two more seemed to escape their clutches.

It was an exhausting cycle and the head of the Auror Office, Gawain Robards, was losing his patience with the fact that two years had gone by and Harry and Iris had yet to apprehend the Death Eater.

Fortunately, Draco had the potential to be the saving grace the case needed.

He was able to give insight on the Death Eater cases that no one else in the Auror Office was capable of. He had been on the inside and he knew the minds of the people they were hunting as well as a great deal of their hideouts and movement patterns.

He was putting that knowledge to the test as he examined the map spread out on Iris’ desk that she and Harry used to track the numerous sightings of Greyback. The pattern was erratic, and the werewolf seemed to never visit in the same place twice.

Iris watched Draco closely as his eyes flitted rapidly from one location to the next, a look of confusion crossing his face that resembled one of her own whenever she stared at the map for too long.

“His movements don’t make any sense. How was he sighted here and then here only fifteen minutes later? And, more importantly, why?” Draco pointed at two separate pins tacked onto the map, the first pin miles away from the second one.

“He can Apparate so it’s possible, but the sporadic popping from one place to the next?” Harry crossed his arms. “He’s toying with us. He knows the Office is trying to track his every move and by letting the locals spot him, he gains control over what we know and what we don’t.”

“We’ve ruled out the possibility of him using Polyjuice Potion to throw us off his trail.” Iris chimed in. “Polyjuice is already painful to use but Greyback is more wolf than human these days. It would be excruciating for any of his followers to take on his appearance, out of the rare chance they survived the process. He can’t risk losing allies.” 

“Greyback doesn’t have allies, he has subordinates.” Draco declared and his eyes founds hers for the first time that morning.

His eyes trailed her from head to toe so fast she wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t frozen under the weight of his silver gaze. He spent a second longer on the small bit of cleavage her blouse allowed, and Iris’ cheeks warmed as he seemingly forced his eyes away from her and back to the map.

She’d chosen to wear one of her most flattering outfits that morning. She’d paired a silk, scarlet blouse with high-waisted black trousers that clung to her curves and flared out at the ankle. She’d chosen a pair black pumps to compensate for her small stature and, around her neck, lay a golden chain threaded through a hawk pendant.

The hawk pendant rested above the swell of her breasts, accentuating the attribute.

The hawk was the form of her Patronus. After successfully performing a corporeal _Expecto Patronum_ her Fifth Year at Hogwarts, Hermione had gifted her the necklace in congratulations and she’d treasured it ever since.

“Forgive me.” Iris mocked, her eyes narrowing at Draco. “Next time I’ll be sure to use the _correct_ term when discussing the cronies Greyback surrounds himself with.”

Draco kept his eyes trained on the map as his lips curled into a smirk at her sarcastic tone.

Iris wondered if his face would get stuck like that one day.

“He’s resumed his decades old habit of infecting Magical and Muggle children alike with lycanthropy.” Harry said, drawing the conversation back to the matter at hand. “Twelve victims in the past two years, one every other month on the night of a full moon.”

“He chooses children living in highly populated cities in single-parent households.” Iris cleared her throat. “He hasn’t ventured out past the U.K. which is an obvious power play. He revels in the fact that he’s within our grasp and yet we still can’t figure out which city he’ll hit next.”

“He’ll strike again next month.” Harry added. “The full moon is on Friday the 13th.”

“How fitting.” Draco’s lips curled in disgust. “And you’ve questioned every Death Eater that worked closely with him? The ones aware of which cities he’s frequented in the past?” He retreated from the desk and crossed his arms. “I wish I knew more but he only visited the Manor a handful of times.” 

“We’ve questioned almost all of those in custody. Unfortunately, the ones eager to talk were low-level – young fanatics that were blinded by prejudice and only joined up months before the end of the War.” Harry explained. “The highest-ranking Death Eaters, the ones that could’ve provided the answers we need, were killed at the Battle of Hogwarts or they’re still on the run, protected by political connections.”

“Almost all?” Draco narrowed his eyes at Harry. “I’m not an idiot, Potter, spit it out.”

Chills shot down Iris’ spine when she noticed the clear discomfort on Harry’s face.

“Your father has refused to speak with the Auror Office since his incarceration.” Harry announced. “And, as a significant member of Voldemort’s inner circle, the information he undoubtedly holds is being wasted while he remains silent.”

“I see.” Draco exhaled, an expression of exhaustion transforming his features as the revelation of why he’d needed to be actively involved in this conversation crossed his mind.

Iris knew that look of his all too well and her heart twisted at the sight of it.

“Harry.” Iris warned, her eyes darting towards her best friend. “Don’t you dare.”

“Don’t I dare, what?” Harry hissed. “Lucius Malfoy is the only option we have left, or would you rather let Greyback infect another child next month? Are you so blinded by your ego that you can’t put your hatred aside to save innocent lives?”

“You think this is about my ego?” She snarled. “Where do you get off criticizing my ego? You’re _the Chosen One_ , and you think I’m the one with an ego? You’re deflecting, Harry.”

“I’m the one deflecting?” Harry laughed. “You’re the one that’s barely spoken to me outside of work because you’d rather drown in avoidance. You’re the one that has refused this path from day one because you couldn’t handle it. Time’s up Iris. We’ve run out of options, and Robards and Kingsley are already on board.”

“Uh, Potter, Sinclair, should I cast _Muffliato_ or does this happen often?” Draco asked.

“Not now, Malfoy.”

“Shut it, Draco.”

Draco backed away from the desk with hands in the air in surrender.

“I’ve barely spoken to you because I’m finding it difficult to look at you without feeling manipulated and betrayed.” Iris spat and Harry flinched at her words. “You agreed to train Draco fucking Malfoy as an Auror and moved him into _our_ home without even a single word about it to me beforehand!”

“Even I can admit that was bit dodgy.” Draco mumbled.

“Malfoy, shut up!”

“Sod off, Draco!”

Draco’s eyes widened, drifting over towards the fireplace for safety, and Iris resumed directing her fury towards Harry.

“At least now I know why you’ve been going behind my back, why you’ve disregarded my feelings at every turn. All of this, the agreeing to train Draco, the secret meetings with the Office, Robards, and Kingsley.” Iris laughed. “It’s all so you can fuel your reputation as the Ministry’s Golden Boy, it’s all because you’re terrified of becoming irrelevant.”

Harry’s eyes darkened and Iris knew she’d hit a nerve.

Instead of addressing her, Harry shifted his gaze towards Draco. “Malfoy, this is ultimately your decision. Kingsley has communicated with the Aurors on guard at Azkaban and your father has agreed to an interview as long as you’re present.”

“You’re unbelievable.” Iris shook her head in disbelief. “Do you realize what you’re asking?” 

“Iris.” Draco called and her eyes left the fury growing in Harry’s emerald orbs for his silver gaze. The intensity of his eyes focused solely on her was a wave of icy water that cooled the blood boiling in her veins, but it did nothing to calm the resounding, rapid beat of her heart.

“I’ll go.” He announced, shifting his focus to Harry. “After I was released from Azkaban, the Wizengamot offered my mother and I the opportunity to visit my father once a month if we so desired. We refused it but the offer still stands regardless.” Draco’s face was determined, unyielding. “I’ll go but even I won’t be able to get him to talk if he isn’t offered something in return.”

“That’s been discussed.” Harry stated. “It would be foolish to not expect Lucius to request immediate release from Azkaban in exchange for his information. A contract for a life sentence of house arrest is undergoing review within the Law Offices on Level Five.”

“Fuck.” Draco clenched his jaw tightly. Iris watched as he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, his shoulders tight with tension as his mind turned over the choices laid out before him.

If he didn’t agree, the Office could accuse him of being weak, of not being a suitable Auror candidate. They could even go as far as accusing him of not wanting Greyback to be captured out of sick loyalty to a former comrade.

If he did agree, he could be accused of only choosing to aid in the investigation so that his father would go free – but that would be the least of his worries. With Lucius imprisoned, the monster of Draco’s childhood was kept behind lock and key. If that monster was released, it would only be matter of time before Lucius weaseled his way back into Draco’s life. 

“Fine.” Draco exhaled, opening his eyes. “I’ll need time to move my mother out of the manor, if it comes to that, but fine. I’ll play into the Ministry’s meddlesome hand once more.” 

“No.” Iris announced. “No. There has to be another way.”

“For fuck’s sake Iris!” Harry threw his hands in the air. “Malfoy has agreed to go, right in front of you! It’s done! Now, I suggest you put your personal issues aside before Gobards has you taken off the case entirely.”

“Before Gobards has me taken off the case or _you?”_ She pointed at Harry. “Who are you? I don’t know this person standing in front of me, this person that has kept me in the dark for far longer than I could’ve ever anticipated. How could you work behind my back for god knows how long and still be able to sleep at night?”

“I did what needed to be done and I will continue to do so. The plan to crack Lucius has only been in play since I agreed to become Draco’s mentor and I’d planned on involving you until I saw how easily you reverted back to drowning yourself in scotch.” Harry spat.

“As for who I am? I’m an adult and you should try acting like one. Maybe then you won’t feel the need to rage when things don’t go your way. Maybe then you won’t feel the need to sneak out of your own home before sunrise just to avoid what, _or who_ , you’ve been running from for years.”

Iris stumbled backwards – the anger laced within his words drawing a physical reaction from her. She was at a loss as she turned her back on Harry, the click of her heels the only sound bouncing off the walls.

“Don’t be here when I get back.” She announced over her shoulder. “Either of you.”

Without another word, she turned the handle on her office door and slammed it behind her.

________________________________

Iris mindlessly found herself within an elevator headed towards the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Once on Level Five, she headed for the International Magical Office of Law, seeking out Hermione.

After finding Hermione’s office empty, Iris drifted further down the corridor until she spotted her through the glass walls of a conference room. She was swinging her hands energetically as she drew the attention of the other witch to various documents and pictures tacked on the corkboard beside them.

It wasn’t until Iris knocked on the conference room door and then entered that she realized just who Hermione had been in such an intense discussion with.

Painted red lips curled in amusement as Pansy Parkinson sneered, “Iris Sinclair. What a pleasure.”

“Oh, my day just keeps getting better.” Iris groaned.

The rumors were wrong. The Ministry had hired not one, but two of her former adversaries.

Hermione spun around her heel to face Iris. “Iris? What’re you doing up here?” Her warm, brown eyes widened at Iris’ frazzled state and she rushed to her. "What's wrong? You look as angry as you did when Seamus tried to slip you that love potion." 

Iris cringed at the memory from Sixth Year. “No love potions were involved but I am going to kill Harry. I’m going to kill Harry and I’m going to make sure he stays dead. I haven’t figured out how I’m going to do it just yet, but they do say third time’s the charm.” Iris eyed Pansy over Hermione’s shoulder. “Also, either Pansy Parkinson is behind you or I’m hallucinating.”

Hermione smiled sheepishly. “I think you should sit down.”

She placed a hand on Iris’ back and steered her towards a swivel chair.

Iris eyed Pansy suspiciously before sitting down and was annoyed to find that the Slytherin had somehow become even more beautiful since their years at Hogwarts. Her black bob was as shiny as ever, not a strand out of place, and her tall, lithe figure had retained its Veela similarities. 

Pansy had spent a year on house arrest for her support of Voldemort's uprising, and since her release, the witch had stayed out of the public eye. Her parents, former Death Eaters, had not fared as nicely and were currently serving a twenty-year sentence in Azkaban. 

“So, you’re not hallucinating. Pansy and I are working on the proposal for international House Elf sanctuaries together.” Hermione sat in the chair to Iris’ left. “Her first day was Wednesday, but she’s already been a great help in locating abandoned Pureblood family manors for renovation.”

“That sounds wonderful, Hermione. . .” Iris side-eyed Pansy and then whispered to her best friend. “But you do remember that she stuck chewed gum in our hair Third Year and charmed it so no blade could cut through it? We had to **_burn_** it out.”

“Sinclair, I’m standing two feet away.” Pansy grumbled.

“It was a learning experience.” Hermione remarked before arching an eyebrow at Pansy. “One that I have, most definitely, not forgotten.”

“Kids, they’re the _worst_.” Pansy smiled weakly before taking the seat to Iris’ right. 

Hermione shifted her gaze back to Iris and squeezed her hands. “Tell me everything.”

Iris inhaled deeply before relaying the entirety of the conversation to Hermione . . . and Pansy. The Slytherin’s chin was propped up on one hand as she listened intently, and Iris was wary of the way the witch’s eyes twinkled at the dramatics of it all.

“You’re both in the wrong.” Hermione declared nonchalantly once Iris finished. “Harry more so, I think, but still.”

“Hey!” Iris’ exclaimed. “That’s not how this is supposed to go! You’re supposed to say _Iris, I’ll help you bury the body_ , and when people ask about Harry’s disappearance, we say he took an early retirement and moved to Iceland.”

“Iris.” Hermione leveled her gaze. “I’m not going to sit here and lie to you.”

“No, I didn’t expect you to.” Iris grumbled as she massaged her temples. “If I wanted someone to fuel my irrational behavior, I would’ve gone to see Ron.”

“You and Harry need space.” Hermione stated. “You work together, you live together, and taking the _recent_ situation into consideration, any hostility or resentment that may have already been brewing underneath the surface was amplified tenfold.”

“You’re right.” Iris sighed.

“I'm always right, you know this by now." Hermione smirked. “You and Harry aren’t going to be able to resolve this until you come to terms with why his antics have upset you so deeply.”

“Oh Merlin, this just got so much more interesting.” Pansy crooned. 

“Nope. Not the time.” Iris crossed her arms.

“You’re upset because Harry left you in the dark, but that’s not the reason the two of you just got into a screaming match. That’s because you feel like Draco is being manipulated by the Ministry and you’re more worried than you’d care to admit about him having to visit his father.” Hermione declared flat out.

Hermione was right, but Iris could not believe she thought the appropriate time to dig beneath the surface was in front of Pansy Parkinson. “Could we not do this right now?” Iris motioned towards Pansy.

“Discreet, Sinclair, very discreet.” Pansy snickered.

Iris dropped her head to the conference table in defeat.

“Iris, you can’t keep avoiding—” Hermione started but Pansy interrupted her.

“Granger, Sinclair’s right, we shouldn’t talk about this right now. We need alcohol and lots of it if we're going to dive into her intimacy issues.”

“I do not have intimacy issues.” Iris scoffed, picking her head up off the table. “And when, exactly, did the three of us become a _we_?”

“Draco may not be the most pleasant person to be around, and even though he despises the sight of me most days, I care about him. I care about him and he cares about you which makes me inadvertently involved.” Pansy shrugged. “So, call me biased, but I happen to agree with your anger towards Potter completely.”

“Are you positive I’m not hallucinating?” Iris asked Hermione.

Hermione shushed her and Pansy continued.

“You and Granger are going to cancel your pub night with _the boys_ and once five o’clock hits, we’re Apparating to my flat and getting drunk off our asses.” Pansy bore eyes into Iris. “I can't spend another night brooding with Draco and Blaise. I need to be around other women." 

“And we’ll pick up Ginny along the way.”

“Really, Granger? Must we?” Pansy’s lips curled in distaste.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Gum. Uncuttable gum and the smell of burning hair.”

Pansy gulped. “And we’ll pick up Weaselette along the way.”

Iris was once again at a loss for words so the only sign of agreement she could give was a nod.

She had the oddest feeling that getting drunk with Pansy Parkinson may be exactly what she needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me for the Harry and Iris drama! They're very similar people so they tend to bump heads. Thank you so much for the comments, kudos, and bookmarks; they mean the world. 
> 
> Much love. xo.


	6. Collecting Gryffindors

**August 26, 1992**

_It was the Wednesday before Iris was set to return to Hogwarts as she combed through the bookcases located on the landing of Flourish and Blotts. She sought a very specific type of book, one that provided information on the Centaur colony living within the Forbidden Forest._

_Firenze, a Centaur that lived within the forest’s depths, had saved Harry from the spirit of Lord Voldemort last term and she wanted to properly express her gratitude. She felt the Centaur’s heroism had gotten swept under the rug in comparison to all else that had occurred in May._

_That and she also needed a place to breathe apart from the crowd of Gilderoy Lockhart fans._

_Iris had been at Harry’s side when the newly appointed Defense Against the Dark Arts professor had sighted him within the adoring crowd and she’d used the brief moment before the spotlight descended upon her friend to escape up the stairs._

_Lockhart’s voice carried throughout the bookshop, his boasting drawing an eyeroll from Iris as she continued browsing the section on Magical Creatures of the Humanoid Persuasion._

_Hermione and Molly Weasley’s fascination with the blond oaf was beyond her comprehension._

_After perusing a chapter on Divination from Wizard and Witch Relations with our Hooved Counterparts, Iris settled on the title. The pages informed her of the various ways Centaurs used mallowsweet and sage to refine their stargazing skill and she decided upon purchasing a few bushels of the herbs for Firenze from Slug and Jigger’s Apothecary. _

_She only just closed the leather cover of the book when the presence of someone else on the landing became overwhelmingly apparent._

_“Sinclair.” A voice sneered from directly behind her._

_Iris groaned audibly as a wave of annoyance washed over her._

_Speaking of blond oafs._

_She spun around to meet the grey gaze of Draco Malfoy._

_“Malfoy.” She grumbled._

_The menace of a boy had grown over the summer, he was a couple inches taller than her now. He was still slicking back his hair with copious amounts of hair gel and she wondered whether his hair would feel smooth or tacky to the touch._

_Not that she wanted to touch Draco Malfoy’s hair._

_She was just curious._

_“Got a magical creature stuffed in there somewhere?” He questioned, his eyes twinkling as he glanced over the oversized crimson sweatshirt she was wearing._

_“No, thank Merlin.” Iris shuddered at the memory of the bargain she made with him last October – her wrist had been sore for weeks after having to take double the notes. “Plan on continuing to take your own Transfiguration notes.”_

_“That’s a shame.” He smirked. “You here with your_ _Muggle_ _parents?”_

_“No, not that it’s any of your business, but I’m here with the Weasleys.”_

_“That’s even worse.” Draco’s face twisted in distaste and she resisted the urge to pummel him with the book in her hands._

_Iris’ parents were still wary of magic – Peter and Martha Sinclair had spent four decades ignorant of the existence of the Wizarding World and a year of awareness had not been enough time for her parents to adjust completely._

_A dinner organized through various letters sent from Iris to Ron and so forth had brought her parents and Arthur and Molly Weasley together. Martha and Peter had been anxious to meet the family of one of Iris’ dearest friends and Arthur and Molly had eased some of their worries._

_The two couples had gotten on splendidly. Molly’s charisma made it impossible for awkward silences to occur and her parents had seen Arthur’s fascination with Muggle life as endearing._

_Iris’ parents had warmed significantly to her random splurges of magical facts afterwards. It was as if they could breathe easier with the knowledge that Arthur and Molly's skin wasn't green and covered in warts._

_Last week, Molly had sent a letter offering to take Iris to Diagon Alley to shop for school supplies, and although she enjoyed spending time with the Weasleys, her feelings had been a little hurt at how easily her parents had relinquished the duty._

_“Malfoy, this interaction has been thrilling but I have a feeling I’m missed downstairs.”_

_Iris moved to sidestep Draco, but she was pushed back when he lashed out with his hand and gripped her wrist tightly._

_“Be careful wandering the corridors at Hogwarts this year.” The expression on his face had steeled. “You never know what could be slinking around the next corner.”_

_“Is that a threat, Malfoy?” Iris accused. “I don’t take well to threats.”_

_“It’s a warning.”_

_“Here’s a warning for you.” Iris wrenched her wrist out of his grasp. “Touch me again and I’ll cut off your hand.”_

_"I'll hold you to that." Draco smirked before glancing over the railing of the landing. Iris followed his gaze and noticed the way his eyebrows quirked at the sight of Harry walking towards the entrance with Ginny Weasley._

_“If you’ll excuse me, I think Potter deserves a kick to that enormous ego of his, don’t you?” He winked at her._

_Iris’ jaw went slack._

_He brushed past her with a nudge to the shoulder and she glared at him as he made his way down the stairs. He stopped abruptly, halfway down, and made eye contact with her once more._

_His lips curled in amusement as he chose a book at random, ripped out a page, and stuffed it in his pocket._

_Iris’ eyes widened in horror. “Malfoy, put that page back!”_

_Draco grinned cheekily and raced down the stairs towards Harry._

**September 8, 2000**

“Welcome Gryffindors to my humble abode.” Pansy exclaimed enthusiastically as Iris, Hermione, and Ginny crossed the threshold into her flat.

Humble was the last word Iris would use to describe the place.

Pansy’s flat was a converted warehouse designed to suit a witch with a taste for luxury. Twinkle lights hung from the high ceiling and twisted around the cement beams that supported it. The forest green wallpaper streaked with silver and the black marble flooring were less than subtle odes to Pansy’s everlasting Slytherin pride.

The back wall was made entirely of glass allowing sunlight to flood the flat. French doors were built into the center of the glass wall, leading out to a small balcony that provided a spectacular view of the River Thames. 

“The guest bathroom and bedroom are down that way.” Pansy pointed to her left, past the glass dining table framed by black leather chairs, as the group of girls still hovered by the front door. “And the master is that way.” She pointed in the opposite direction, the corridor to the master framed by the kitchen on the right and an array of bookshelves and a dark walnut wood desk on the left.

Iris gulped.

She was a lion in a snake pit. 

The look on Ginny’s face expressed a similar feeling but Hermione, as to be expected, was unabashedly fascinated by her surroundings. 

“Pansy, the view is to die for.” Hermione sighed.

“I used the last bit of my inheritance on this place.” Pansy remarked as she surveyed the flat with pride. “The Ministry confiscated the rest of my parents’ accounts and properties.”

“Some would say with _good reason_.” Ginny mumbled under her breath.

Pansy’s eyes shot towards Ginny – her lips pursed as she held back the retort that had undoubtedly formed on her tongue.

Pansy had taunted Iris and Hermione at school, but Ginny had received the worst of it. The teasing had arisen out of the arrogance that seemed to go hand in hand with a Pureblood superiority complex, but Pansy's tactics turned vicious when she felt her territory being infringed upon by the redhead’s beauty.

The poisonous history between the two was not going to be fixed over drinks – it was a nod to Hermione’s skills of diplomacy that she’d convinced Ginny to tag along for such an odd evening.

Pansy leveled her gaze at Ginny and forced a smile. “Let’s not waste another minute without a drink in our hands. I’m craving a martini, how about the rest of you?”

“I’ll take a martini, with an extra olive.” Hermione said thoughtlessly as she drifted towards the bookcases.

Ginny eyed Pansy suspiciously. “Firewhiskey, neat.”

“Scotch on the rocks for me.” Iris said.

“Coming right up! Let me change into something a bit more comfortable first.” Pansy winked. Her stiletto heels clicked against the marble flooring as she headed towards the master bedroom. “Relax ladies! Slip off your heels, untuck your blouse, sink into the sofa!” Pansy yelled over her shoulder before disappearing.

“As if I could ever relax with _Pansy Parkinson_ around.” Ginny groaned as she and Iris walked over to Hermione. “Why is she trying so hard?”

Hermione paused her examination of Pansy’s library and gave Ginny a slight nudge. “I know this is not your ideal situation but please be civil? I’ll be working with her for the next few months and she’s obviously in the need of friends.”

“A Slytherin invasion was not what I had in mind when I suggested to Kingsley that the Ministry ease their hiring restrictions.” Iris stated and she received a scolding slap on the arm from Hermione.

“You two are as bad as Ronald.” Hermione stepped away from the bookcases. “Come on, let’s sit by the fireplace.”

Hermione urged Iris and Ginny towards a sitting area framed by a black marble fireplace. The flames roared silver as the women situated themselves around the white leather sectional and, while Hermione sat closest to Iris on her left, it was not lost on her that Ginny had sat as far away from her as possible.

Iris knew Harry well enough to know that he’d already sought Ginny’s advice over their argument that afternoon, the same way she had with Hermione. She also knew Ginny well enough to know that the redhead was practicing severe self-restraint in her presence. If she hadn’t been, Ginny would’ve torn Iris’ head off the second she’d Apparated on her doorstep with Hermione and Pansy.

 _Maybe I should’ve asked for a double scotch._ Iris thought.

Taking Pansy’s advice, Iris let her pumps fall to the floor and folded her legs underneath her. 

As they waited for their hostess to return, she broached a sensitive topic with Hermione.

“Hermione, did you get post from St. Mungo’s today?”

Hermione inhaled deeply. “An appointment reminder for Sunday. Did you get yours?”

“Yes, this morning.”

The post Iris received that morning had included the usual: requests from the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly for an interview with _The Other Golden Girl_ , a letter from Molly Weasley asking over her well-being, and an update from Hagrid on how the newest batch of Third Years were adjusting to his teaching methods.

In contrast to the usual pile of sealed envelopes, an appointment reminder for her monthly visit to St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries had also been included.

For the past two years, on every second Sunday of the month, Iris and Hermione brought their parents to St. Mungo’s for memory retrieval and mind healing treatments. It would’ve been a painless experience for any wizard or witch, but as Iris and Hermione’s parents were Muggles, their bodies reacted to the treatments with great discomfort.

The visits to St. Mungo’s were a necessary evil brought upon by Iris and Hermione themselves. In July of 1997, the girls performed _Obliviate_ , the Forgetfulness Charm, on their parents to protect them from the clutches of Voldemort and his Death Eaters. The Grangers and the Sinclairs were made to forget their daughters entirely and new identities with false memories and false desires were planted within their minds.

The summer after the Battle of Hogwarts, Iris and Hermione tracked down their parents – the Grangers were traveling around Australia and Martha and Peter Sinclair had moved to the States.

The girls had been able to rid their parents’ minds of the false information they had planted but the healers at St. Mungo’s were the only ones able to recover their real memories. It had taken a three-month stay at the magical hospital, but, for the first time in over a year, the Sinclairs and the Grangers recognized their daughters with clarity. 

Since that day, their parents had returned to the homes they had shared before the War, had resumed their careers, and were once again in contact with family and old friends. The only setback being that they had to visit St. Mungo’s once a month to solidify the effects of the healing.

Unfortunately, although Martha and Peter Sinclair’s memories had returned, their frustration with Iris had not faded. Their understanding of Iris’ actions could not mask the violation they felt whenever they were reminded of the way their daughter had manipulated their minds.

Iris knew the Grangers felt similarly towards Hermione.

Hermione squeezed Iris’ hand. “We’ll get through it together, like always.”

Iris squeezed Hermione’s hand in return and the silent understanding that passed between the witches was broken at the sound of Pansy’s bedroom door slamming shut.

Pansy padded over to the girls dressed in an oversized cream sweater and black joggers. Two martini glasses, one with an extra olive, a Firewhiskey, and a scotch floated in the air beside her and she waved the drinks to the correct witch with her wand.

“I tend to make my drinks a little strong.” Pansy warned as she sat on Iris’ right.

Hermione took a sip of her martini and promptly gagged as soon as the liquid slipped past her lips. “Yeah, you could say that.” Hermione coughed and placed the martini on the glass coffee table in front of the sectional.

Ginny and Pansy, on the other hand, downed half of their glasses on the first go.

Iris sipped her scotch and could easily taste the difference between the rich flavor of the brand Pansy had stocked versus the bottle Iris purchased on her late-night runs to the corner store.

“Try this instead.” Pansy waved her wand at Hermione’s drink and it transformed into an amaretto sour.

Hermione grabbed the glass and hummed with delight after taking a sip. “Delicious, thank you.”

“This is ridiculous.” Ginny blurted out. “Cut the hostess act, Parkinson. You would've never invited us here if you weren't desperate.”

Iris almost choked on her scotch and Hermione face-palmed at the outburst.

“To clarify, I didn’t invite _you_ Weasley, Sinclair and Granger did, and I agreed to it.” Pansy toyed with the toothpick holding the olive of her martini. “As for your accusation of _desperation_ , Sinclair stormed into _my_ meeting with Granger, huffing and puffing over her fight with that tosser Potter, and I merely saw an opportunity.”

“I was not huffing and puffing.” Iris clarified, frowning at Pansy.

“You were huffing and puffing.” Hermione whispered from next to her and Iris nudged Hermione sharply in the ribs.

“Talk about Harry like that again and you’ll regret it.” Ginny warned Pansy.

Pansy laughed and took another sip of her martini.

“Ginny.” Hermione pleaded, shifting the redhead’s gaze towards her.

A silent exchange passed between the two witches and then, as if a switch flipped within her, Ginny relaxed and sunk into the sectional.

“Can’t we put old House hostilities behind us for one evening?” Hermione asked. “We’re supposed to be adults for crying out loud.”

Iris cringed at the use of the word _adult._ Harry had used that word just hours earlier to insult her.

“Some of us were practicing Inter-House mingling long before we left Hogwarts anyhow.” Pansy agreed with Hermione and met Iris’ eyes over the rim of her glass. “I’m willing to let bygones be bygones if you are Weasley. Hell, if you had been placed in Slytherin, we probably would’ve been friends.”

“I seriously doubt that.” Ginny remarked. 

The tension in the room was suffocating. 

“But . . .” Ginny sighed exasperatedly. “Sometimes, even enemies get drunk together.”

Pansy’s smile of victory was pure Slytherin.

"We still have a lot to discuss, Parkinson." Ginny asserted and Pansy nodded in agreement.

Hermione arched an eyebrow at Iris as if to say _I told you so._

“Shut up.” Iris mumbled and Hermione snickered.

“Now that that’s settled.” Pansy raised her glass in the air. "Cheers, ladies!” Hermione met Pansy’s glass and after a moment, Iris and Ginny reluctantly did as well.

The four women chugged their drinks and once they had finished, Pansy waved her wand and the glasses refilled to the brim.

__________________________

Four hours had passed in the blink of an eye.

Four hours of drinking, gossiping about old classmates, and reminiscing over their years at Hogwarts. Never in her life did Iris think she would get wasted with Pansy Parkinson and enjoy herself. 

“Granger, what’s going on with Weasley? Are you still together?” Pansy asked as she drank from her glass of water.

Ginny had mentioned feeling the slightest bit nauseous and Pansy had waved her wand and replacing the girls’ drinks with tall glasses of water – she was adamant that no one would be getting sick in her guest bathroom that night.

So far Iris had avoided the topic of Draco, but if Pansy was bringing up Hermione’s relationship with Ron, she needed to steel herself for the discussion to soon focus on her own past discretions. 

“We’re friends, just friends.” Hermione announced. “Adjusting to life after the War has been difficult enough individually and Ron and I weren’t prepared to face it as a couple. Our friendship was suffering the most and I refuse to lose that most of all. We’re good, our paths are separate for now, but I know they’ll cross again once we’re ready.”

“And he feels the same way?” Pansy arched an eyebrow.

Hermione nodded – her cheeks pink from the alcohol in her veins and from talking about Ron.

“That’s . . .” Pansy furrowed her brow. “Very mature. I didn’t expect that from the Weasel.”

“Watch it.” Ginny slurred as she pointed a finger at Pansy and Iris hid a laugh from behind her hand.

“The downside is that since we’re not together and we’re trying to stay platonic until we’re ready . . .” Hermione eyed Iris first and then Pansy. “We haven’t . . . you know . . . in months.”

“Are you trying to tell me you’re horny, Hermione Granger?!” Pansy cackled and Iris burst into laughter.

“A witch can only do so much on her own.” Hermione exclaimed shamelessly.

“Now I need details. What is _Ron Weasley_ like in the sack?” Pansy wondered.

“Bloody hell that’s my brother you're talking about." Ginny put her hands over her ears. "I’m going to the bathroom and this conversation better be over by the time I get back.” She stood and wobbled her way towards Pansy’s guest bathroom.

“If you puke, you’re dead Weaselette!” Pansy yelled.

“Sod off, snake.” Ginny spat and Iris snorted.

The bathroom door slammed shut.

“Spill, Granger.” Pansy demanded.

“That is for me to know and no one else.” Hermione smirked as she shook her head and Iris breathed a sigh of relief. Unlike Pansy, Iris did not need details. Ron would forever be the boy that wiped boogers on her robes during First Year Charms class.

“No fun.” Pansy pouted before turning to Iris. “What about you Sinclair? Slept with anyone interesting lately? My love life has been as dry as the Sahara, I need to vicariously live through someone else.”

“Iris is still a virgin.” Hermione hiccupped. “And she doesn’t date.”

“Hermione Jean Granger!” Iris shouted as she kicked Hermione in the shin with her bare foot. “Do tell Pansy Parkinson all my secrets why don’t you?”

“Not even Draco?” Pansy’s eyes widened at the revelation. “Weren’t you sneaking around all of Sixth Year?”

“Fifth Year too and we were not _sneaking around_. I would call it taking advantage of situations.” Iris clarified with a pointed finger. “And to answer your question, no, not even Draco. I wasn’t too keen on losing my virginity in an empty classroom or behind the curtain of an empty alcove.”

“But those were all the best spots!” Pansy squealed. “The close quarters, the secrecy, the risk of getting caught. I even tried out the Quidditch pitch bleachers with Theodore Nott once.”

“Was that before or after Draco?” Iris hissed, the buzz from the scotch getting the better of her.

“For the love of Merlin.” Hermione groaned before laying back against the sectional.

Pansy was visibly taken off guard by Iris’ question.

The witch parted her lips to respond but a thunderous knock at the front door shifted her attention. “Who the fuck is that?” Pansy shouted before laying her glass on the coffee table and rushing to the front door.

Iris exhaled at Pansy’s absence – she wasn’t ready to have that conversation with her just yet, drunk or sober, and she was grateful to whoever had just interrupted Pansy’s train of thought.

Pansy swung the door open with a flourish and immediately tried to slam it back shut. “NO! GO AWAY! YOU’LL RUIN EVERYTHING!” 

Iris and Hermione’s eyes darted towards Pansy at the sound of her shouting and the pair watched as she failed miserably to keep whoever was on the other side of the door from coming in. The door was pushed back and forth between Pansy, who had ground her feet into the marble flooring to stay in place, and her opponent.

The door to the flat opened with a bang when Pansy cried in defeat and jumped backwards.

Blaise Zabini, with a twelve pack of ale floating in the air on his right and a bottle of Muggle whiskey on his left, stepped over the threshold grinning from ear to ear.

“Hello-o-o-o-o ladies!” Blaise exclaimed and Hermione giggled from next to Iris.

“Blaise, get the fuck out! I’m trying to make friends that aren’t washed up Death Eaters.” Pansy whined. 

At the mention of washed-up Death Eaters, Draco’s blond head crossed the threshold behind Blaise.

“Oh, fuck me.” Iris face planted into the sofa and Hermione patted her back reassuringly.

“Calm down Pans. We heard you were collecting Gryffindors and Draco and I wanted to join in on the fun.” Blaise winked before setting down the alcohol he brought on top of Pansy’s dining table. “We brought two of our own as a welcome gift.”

Harry and Ron entered the flat behind Draco.

“ONE NIGHT. I asked for ONE NIGHT away from the pair of you and your raging testosterone. You couldn’t even give me that!” Pansy threw her hands in the air and stomped back over to Iris and Hermione. 

Ginny had just exited the guest bathroom when she caught sight of Harry standing awkwardly near the front door.

“It’s my boyfriend!” The redhead gushed before sprinting towards Harry and jumping into his arms. He nearly fell over as she wrapped her legs around his waist with a death lock grip, but he recovered quickly, gripping her thighs tightly to keep her held up.

“Hello to you too, Gin.” Harry laughed. “How much have you had to drink tonight?”

Ginny rubbed her nose against his in response.

“I’m going to vomit.” Ron genuinely looked sick watching Harry and Ginny. His eyes raked the flat for an opportunity to escape and he rushed over to Iris and Hermione when he spotted the girls on the sectional.

“I can understand Harry but how the hell did you get wrapped into this?” Iris laughed as Ron threw himself between Iris and Hermione.

“I have no fucking clue! Harry told me he still wanted to have drinks tonight after you and 'Mione canceled and next thing I know he’s standing outside my flat with Malfoy and Zabini!” The confusion that crossed Ron’s face was priceless. 

By then, Harry had made his way to the sectional with Ginny still securely attached to him. When he sat down, he sat as far away as possible from Iris, and Ginny repositioned herself on his lap so she was facing everyone else.

Iris refused to meet Harry’s eyes and he seemed to be intent on the same.

Harry and Ginny were followed by Blaise and Draco soon after. Blaise dramatically displayed himself in front the fireplace while Draco positioned himself against the glass wall with crossed arms.

Iris wasn’t in control of herself as her eyes roamed Draco from head to toe.

He was still wearing the same clothes he’d been dressed in at work – a black cable knit sweater with a white, collared button down underneath and slim-fitting grey trousers. Only now, the sleeves of his sweater and the button down were rolled up to his elbows, revealing his Dark Mark as well as the corded muscle of his arms.

Iris’ face warmed and he met her eyes for the first time since arriving.

If the less than perfect attire hadn’t already been an indication, Iris took note of the flush of Draco’s cheeks, his ruffled hair, and the glassy sheen of his piercing eyes – he was as drunk as the rest of them.

He, Blaise, and Harry must have started drinking long before they collected Ron.

“Ron, just grab a drink and enjoy yourself.” Hermione crooned, placing a hand high on Ron's thigh.

His eyes darted towards her hand and his jaw went slack. “Mione, you’re wasted!”

Hermione removed her hand from Ron’s thigh and waved it in the air. “I am not drunk, Ronald.”

“Iris?” Ron turned towards her, scrutinizing her.

“Yes Ronald?” Iris said innocently, tearing her eyes away from Draco and resting on Ron.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, you’re pissed too.” Ron shook his head in feigned disapproval. “I might as well catch up.” He announced before retrieving his wand from a pocket of his trousers and floating three bottles of ale onto the coffee table.

Ron swiped one of the bottles, twisting off the cap with ease. Hermione’s gaze was glued to his lips as he sipped from the bottle and Iris’ eyes widened at the sight of her best friend’s blatant longing.

 _I need some air._ She thought.

Iris stood abruptly and wobbled – her lack of motor skills drawing Draco’s eyes as his relaxed demeanor transformed into analytical concern.

Iris threw her arms out to steady herself and giggled. “Oops.”

“You can’t leave Sinclair! The party just arrived!” Blaise protested.

For the most part, Blaise looked similar to the way he did at Hogwarts. The only differences were that he had accumulated some muscle and his usual buzzcut had grown out into short, close-cropped curls. 

“I’m just going to get some fresh air, Zabini.” Iris explained as she maneuvered her way around Blaise’s long, outstretched legs.

She drifted towards the balcony doors and swung one open – a warm gust of September night air enveloping her as stepped out onto the concrete. It was cold beneath her feet, but she welcomed the feeling as it calmed the fog of her mind.

She reached the edge of the railing and stared upward, her lips curling into a frown as not one single star could be seen. Iris loved living in London, but the pollution generated from a major city made it impossible for stargazing. 

She closed her eyes, inhaled and exhaled deeply, and pretended she was leaning over the railing of the Astronomy Tower instead.

A few minutes passed before one of the doors to the balcony opened and closed behind her.

“Harry, I’m not in the mood to talk right now.” She said, her eyes still shut.

“I’ve never been mistaken for Potter before. A familiar voice drawled behind her. “I’m a bit offended.”

She opened her eyes and spun around, losing her balance in the process.

Draco was at her side in a second. He gently gripped her arms to steady her and she looked upward with hesitation. They hadn’t been this close to one another in years and the silver of his eyes made her heart ache.

“Isn't this the part where you threaten to cut off my hand?” He teased. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready, the next chapter will be primarily Iris and Draco content! Thank you so much for all the love on this story so far, y'all are too good to me. 
> 
> Much love. xo.


	7. Run

**September 8, 2000**

“You’re not funny.” Iris frowned. “And I’m not a damsel in distress for you to save.” She pressed her palms against Draco’s chest and shoved hard, but he was all muscle underneath her touch and didn’t move an inch at her effort.

“Fine, I’ll let you fall to your death next time.” Draco sneered before releasing her arms and drifting to her side. He leaned against the railing on one elbow, his body turned towards her and a smirk plastered on his face.

“There won’t be a next time.” Iris fumed. “Go back inside, I came out here to be alone.”

“What a coincidence – I came out here to be alone as well.” He jeered before shifting his gaze upwards, the strong line of his jaw on display as his eyes scanned the night sky.

Iris was left tongue-tied as memories of tracing her lips along that jaw rushed at her. Her eyes were driven towards his cheekbone as strands of hair delicately brushed the surface and an irrational part of her wondered if he would notice if she reached out and—

“I hate London, the smog covers every single star in the sky.” His lips curled into a frown, the disdain in his voice drawing her out of her trance. “That’s what used to be so special about the Manor – the fresh air, the quiet rustle of the forest, the light of the constellations after sunset.”

His bloodshot eyes left the sky and found hers once more – the weight of his gaze knocking the air from her lungs.

“Not even that lasted. My father destroyed my childhood home just as he destroys every beautiful thing he touches. First my mother, then the Manor.” He chuckled dryly – the lack of emotion familiar to Iris’ ears. “I wonder what else he’ll ruin when he’s released from Azkaban.” 

Her heart panged at his words, but she’d been a victim to his revolving door tactic before. She couldn’t allow herself to be the same schoolgirl that craved the rarity of such a raw moment only to be given the cold shoulder for days, weeks, or months afterwards.

“Draco, go inside.” Iris pleaded.

“I’d rather not.” He pushed off the railing and took a step towards her. “Too much Weasley back there.”

“For the love of Merlin—”

“You know, your argument with Potter reminded me of our Prefect patrols together Fifth Year – the nights I would poke and poke at your temper until it cracked.” He arched a brow mockingly. “It was all so I could watch the way your eyes lit up when you felt challenged.”

“Stop it.” Iris warned.

“No.” He replied sharply as he took another step forward. “The color of your blouse, it’s the same shade of red as that dress you wore to Slughorn’s Christmas Party. Do you know that?”

He was close enough now that his fingers brushed the cuff of her sleeve absentmindedly and the simple gesture sent her heart racing. “I remember thinking about how I would’ve let Filch catch me that night a thousand times over if it meant I could relive the moment I laid eyes on you again.”

 _“I said stop it.”_ She hissed through her teeth. “You’ve never told me any of this before and there isn’t any point in sharing now.”

“Yes, there is. I should’ve told you then, but I was a coward. I should’ve, but I didn’t and that’s why I’m telling you now.”

“You’re right, you were a coward.” She backed away from him. “But you were also cruel—cruel and unfair, just as you are being at this very moment, so if you’re not going to leave, then I will.”

Iris hurried from her spot by the railing, hurried away from Draco, and rushed to the balcony doors – her fight or flight instinct pleading with her to run as she pushed downward on one of the handles.

The door refused to budge the slightest inch, and when she tried the handle of the other door, the result was the same. She put all her strength behind shaking each of the handles once more, and while the doors shook vigorously, they remained closed.

“What the—” Iris lost her train of thought as she met the eyes of Pansy Parkinson through the glass doors. The witch was standing only a few feet away with two wands dangling loosely from her left hand, an apologetic grin plastered on her face.

Iris frantically checked the pockets of her trousers and when she came up empty, the events of earlier that evening flashed across her mind – her wand had been poking her in the stomach and, instead of securing it within her purse, her scotch-addled brain had laid it on the coffee table right next to Pansy’s martini glass.

It all came together as Iris glared at Pansy through the glass. The witch must have witnessed Draco following her outside and had seen that as an opportunity to shut the pair out on the balcony, knowing Iris wouldn’t be able to use _Alohomora_ on the locks.

“Pansy, unlock these doors!” Iris hit the glass out of frustration – she’d hoped the sound of her palm hitting the glass would’ve alerted her friends sitting nearby but not a head turned in her direction.

Pansy’s mouth formed an ‘o’ at the outburst and, with the use of a non-verbal spell, glossy, silver curtains untied from either end of the glass wall. The curtains met in the middle to frame the balcony doors, essentially hiding the interior of the flat from the outside and vice versa.

Once Pansy scurried away from her view, Iris spun around on her heel and glared furiously at Draco who’d been observing the scene as it unfolded.

“Are you behind this?!” She shouted. “When has backing me into corner ever worked well for you?”

“Never. That’s why you should know I have nothing to do with this.” He drawled. “This is all Pansy’s doing. Did you fail to notice that she had my wand between her claws as well?”

Iris wanted to do was scream.

Instead, she pinched the bridge of her nose tightly and closed her eyes as she thought over her next to path to escape. It wasn’t until she remembered that she was, in fact, _a witch,_ that the most obvious answer occurred to her.

“I can Apparate. I’m a witch and I can Apparate.” She laughed manically as she opened her eyes. “I’ll pop home and, once I’m there, I’ll send Hermione a Patronus and ask her to bring over my things tomorrow morning.”

“Iris, you can’t—”

“Shush, I’m concentrating on not getting Splinched.” Iris closed her eyes once more and pictured the doorstep of 12 Grimmauld Place. The familiar feeling of all corners of the Earth closing in on her at once began to wash over her and it then it just . . . _stopped._

“What?!” She stared at her palms incredulously and wiggled her hands. “Damn it, it’s probably the scotch. I’ll just have to—”

“It’s not the scotch.” Draco interrupted her. “Pansy cast an Anti-Disapparition Jinx around the flat when she moved in so stop trying to leave or you’re going to get sliced in half by your own magic. The only way in or out is through the front door.”

Iris’ jaw went slack, and a stretch of silence occurred as she processed the reality of the situation. She groaned audibly and began pacing up and down the balcony—Draco’s eyes following her every step.

“Brilliant. Bloody fucking brilliant.” She fumed and glared at Draco. “So, what do we do now? You want to continue dredging up our past at my expense? Go ahead, you’ve got years to cover—that’s bound to kill some time.”

An expression of pure annoyance crossed his face, but he remained silent.

“Oh, so now you have nothing to say. Well, I guess it’s my turn then.” She snarled as she took a step towards him. “Why don’t we talk about this?” She lashed out and forced his left forearm into a position that put the Dark Mark on full display.

“Remember when you branded yourself the summer before Sixth Year? Remember how well you hid it from me until the morning before you let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts?” He wrenched his arm out of her grasp and her eyes lit up with fury. “You disgust me.” 

“I disgust you?” He laughed loudly. “Is that what you tell yourself? Is that your reasoning, as _Potter_ put it so elegantly, for running from me all these years? From trying to run from me now?” He closed the miniscule gap that had separated them. “That’s a lie. Tell the truth.”

They were chest to chest, and she had to tilt her head up to see him properly this close.

“It’s not a lie.” She hissed. “The sight of you makes me physically ill.”

“I don’t believe you.” He muttered.

His breath tickled her eyelashes and she instinctively took a step backwards.

“What do you want, Draco? Are you so fucked in the head that you want to hear the ghastly details of the hell I went through after you left me, not once, not twice, but three fucking times?” She poked a finger harshly into his chest. “Is that what you want to hear? That after stealing my parents’ memories, after cheating death on numerous occasions, and after passing the still bodies of friends and mentors within the Great Hall, that the worst of my nightmares were filled solely of you leaving me behind.” 

Her chest heaved as she struggled to regain her breath.

“You weren’t the only one with nightmares, Iris.” He said, his mouth set in a fine line.

“Excuse me?” She cried out.

“I’m not the villain of your story. I was a kid. _We_ were kids.” He crossed his arms defiantly. “I tried to protect you the only way I knew how, the only way I’d been taught my entire life—I fought you until you were too exhausted to continue on, until you were forced to run in the opposite direction.” He locked her eyes with his. “I won’t apologize for doing what I thought I was right.” 

“I could take care of myself then and I can take care of myself now!” She shouted. “I didn’t need you to act as my savior, I needed you to stay! I only ever needed you to stay but I learned my lesson and I will _never_ make that mistake again.” 

Overwhelming, suffocating silence returned as Draco’s brow furrowed with frustration at her words.

Her eyes roamed his face, searching for what she knew she would never find—guilt, regret, sorrow. She searched for an indication that his scars still ached as hers did, that his wound cut as deep as hers, but was only greeted with unwavering defiance.

Their eyes were torn from one another at the sound of loud yelp coming from behind Iris.

“Ron! Stop leaning on me!” Ginny yelped. “You keep shoving my face into the glass.”

“Shut up, they’re going to—” Blaise’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as he locked eyes with Iris. “—hear us.”

Hermione, Ron, Harry, Ginny, Blaise, and Pansy were pressed up against one another, peering through the balcony doors at Iris and Draco. Blaise’s gaze shifted from Iris to Draco and after catching his best friend’s attention, he promptly awarded Draco with a thumbs up. 

“Fuck off the lot of you!” Draco shouted at the group.

Blaise feigned offense and fell over backwards with his hand over his heart.

The others, ashamed they’d been caught spying, scurried away out of sight.

Iris turned back towards Draco and announced the first casual thought that sprung to mind, “The doors are probably unlocked.”

“Run then.” He spat. “It’s what you do best.” 

He turned his back on her and headed towards the railing, as if he was dismissing her from his presence. Her eyes were glued to his retreating figure as he leaned over the ironwork, his gaze seemingly focused on a boat cruising down the Thames.

“You taught me how.” She replied.

And without sparing Draco another glance, she turned around and tried one of the door handles.

Mercifully, the door opened, and Iris let it slam shut behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. I didn't want to reveal all the bits and bobs of Draco and Iris' past this chapter because that's going to be explored thoroughly later on. 
> 
> I'm so so so thankful for the love for this story. 
> 
> Much love. xo.


	8. R.A.B.

**November 7, 1992**

_The curls lifted from Iris’ shoulders as blurs of scarlet red and emerald green raced up and down the Quidditch pitch. It was Gryffindor’s first Quidditch match of the school year and the team’s opponent, Slytherin, was a horrific sixty points ahead._

_The intensity of the rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin had briefly supplanted the growing wave of terror permeating throughout Hogwarts—the notoriety of the “Heir of Slytherin” fading into the background as students and staff became engulfed in the match._

_As her peers and mentors watched with bated breath as Chasers from either House raced through the air, Iris was focused on a different rivalry entirely—the one that existed between Harry and Draco Malfoy, Slytherin’s newest starting Seeker._

_When Draco wasn’t taunting Harry from his broomstick, which was often, his efforts to locate the Snitch were performed with strict precision and calculation. Iris couldn’t help but watch Draco’s every maneuver as he flew around the Quidditch pitch with a fluidity that could’ve only been possible with years of training._

_“That Bludger’s gone mental!” Neville Longbottom shouted._

_Iris’ cheeks warmed as the sound of Neville’s voice shifted her gaze from Draco to Harry—she’d been observing the Slytherin boy for so long that the peril her best friend was under had nearly slipped her mind._

_Since the start of the match, Harry had been chased relentlessly by a rogue Bludger—he hadn’t been spared a second to catch his breath, let alone search for the Snitch. Fred and George Weasley, Gryffindor’s Beaters, were working tirelessly to keep their Seeker safe, but there was only so much the twins could do._

_“I’ll put a stop to it!” Ron raised his barely functioning wand as Harry flew frantically around the Commentary Box, the Bludger following close behind._

_Ron’s wand was held together by a single strand of wood, and an obscene amount of Spellotape, after being split in two the night he and Harry crashed into the Whomping Willow. As result, every spell he’d cast since its near destruction had been nothing short of a disaster._

_Iris’ eyes widened at the sight of Ron’s determination and she shouted, “No!” in synchronization with Hermione. Iris leapt at Ron from the left, Hermione from the right, and each girl tried to snatch the wand from his hands._

_Ron swerved out of their grasp. “The lack of faith you two have is astounding!”_

_“It would be too risky even if your wand wasn’t pieces!” Hermione scolded. “You could hit Harry!”_

_The sound of splintering wood drew the eyes of everyone within stands towards Harry as he crashed the Bludger into one of the towers built into the pitch. While the Bludger fought to free itself, Iris watched as Harry hunched over his broomstick in exhaustion—his chest heaving up and down ferociously as he regained his breath._

_At the sight of vulnerability, Draco raced towards Harry’s position. Harry lifted his head at the sound of the Slytherin’s arrival and the pair were lost in of a flurry of words when Iris spotted a flash of gold hovering above Draco’s shoulder._

_“The Snitch! I see the Snitch!” She yelled, pointing towards the golden orb still fluttering near Draco._

_Harry’s rigid posture indicated that he’d noticed as well but, before he could make a move to grab for it, the Bludger reappeared and Harry and Draco were forced to swerve out of its way to avoid losing their heads._

_Harry’s eyes were still on the Snitch as the Bludger soared past and once the air was clear, he raced after the golden orb. Draco followed Harry’s line of sight and raced after his rival._

_The boys disappeared beneath the Quidditch pitch with the Bludger following close behind and Iris could barely breathe at the excitement of it all._

_Mere seconds passed before Draco reemerged from beneath the pitch, broomstick-less and flailing around in the air. He landed harshly on his back and Iris watched anxiously as he remained motionless upon the grass._

_It’s wasn’t until she could see the visible rise and fall of Draco’s chest that Iris’ worry calmed._

_Lucius Malfoy, sitting within the Commentary Box with Dumbledore and the rest of the Hogwarts staff, didn’t move an inch at the sight of his son sprawled out on the Quidditch pitch._

_Bastard._ _She thought as she glared at the elder Malfoy._

_“Harry, watch out!” Hermione shouted, shifting Iris’ gaze back to the match. Harry had reemerged from beneath the pitch and was leaning forward on his broom, hand outstretched towards the Snitch._

_The Bludger seemed to materialize out of thin air when it smashed into Harry’s elbow._

_“Harry!” Iris yelled in horror._

_Pain was visible upon Harry’s face as he continued to reach towards the Snitch with his uninjured arm. With only his legs keeping him in place on his broomstick, he lost his grip and hurtled forward, landing in the sand beneath the Gryffindor goal posts._

_The crowd held its breath as Harry lay there stagnant and after a tense stretch of silence, Iris screamed in relief at the sight of Harry throwing his unharmed hand towards the sky to present his fingers grasped tightly around the Snitch._

_“Harry Potter has caught the Snitch!” Lee Jordan announced. “Gryffindor wins!”_

_The crowd roared as Hermione turned to Iris and Ron and said, “Let’s go.”_

_Hermione ushered Iris and Ron to follow after her and the group were feet away from Harry when the Bludger reappeared to continue its assault. Harry rolled around in the sand under the goal posts to avoid it, holding his injured arm close to his chest._

_Hermione thrust her hand out to stop Iris and Ron from continuing onward and the pair watched as she pointed her wand at the Bludger and shouted, “Finite Incantatem!”_

_The Bludger exploded and the three Gryffindors raced to Harry’s side._

_“Thank you, Hermione.” Harry exclaimed out of breath._

_“Harry, that Bludger smashed your elbow.” Iris pushed strands of raven black hair from his forehead. “We need to get you to Madame Pomfrey.”_

_“I think it broke my arm.” Harry winced as he tried to lift his hand._

_Professor Gilderoy Lockhart appeared on the other side of Harry, the rest of Gryffindor House following close behind._

_“Not to worry Harry, I’ll have that arm of yours feeling good as new in just a jiffy.” Lockhart exclaimed._

_Professor Lockhart’s resolve to save the day was visible as retrieved his wand from within his robes._

_“No, not you!” Harry pleaded desperately._

_“Professor don’t!” Iris shouted._

_“Brackium Emendo!” Lockhart waved his wand and the bones in Harry’s arm disappeared._

_______________________________

_Iris, Hermione, and Ron were among the swarm of Gryffindors that followed Harry from the Quidditch pitch to the Hospital Wing._

_Draco, brought to Madam Pomfrey only minutes before by his teammates, was groaning dramatically from his hospital bed._

_Lucius Malfoy was noticeably absent from his son’s side._

_“Mister Malfoy do be quiet. Once the Stamina Charm cements, you’re free to leave.” Madam Pomfrey shook her head disapprovingly as she returned to Harry’s side with the bottle of Skele-Gro. “Now you, Mister Potter, are in for a less than pleasant evening.”_

_“You should’ve been brought to me immediately. . .” Madam Pomfrey continued as she poured Harry a glass of the Skele-Gro. “Using an advanced healing spell without proper training? Lockhart is going to get an earful from me.”_

_Iris’ eyes lingered over to Draco who was staring at the ceiling, clutching his stomach._

_The boy could be downright cruel, but he was alone, and Iris pitied him—Harry had a crowd of people worrying over his well-being, meanwhile, Draco’s own father couldn’t seem to care less for the health of his son._

_Iris, confident that Harry was going to be just fine, slipped through the crowd and drifted over towards Draco’s bedside._

_“What do you want, Sinclair?” His eyes narrowed in suspicion as she approached._

_“I wanted to see how you were doing.” She explained cautiously. “That was a right tumble you had out there.”_

_The expression on Draco’s face softened briefly before his signature sneer returned._ _“Why do you care?” He spat. “You’re the reason I was coughing up slugs two months ago.”_

_It was true—at the beginning of the school year, Iris had cursed Draco with Slugulus Eructo, but only because Ron had failed oh so miserably with his attempt and cursed himself instead. Draco had just called Hermione a Mudblood and since Ron hadn’t been able to enact revenge, Iris gladly picked up the slack._

_“You were coughing up slugs because you insulted my friend.” Her lips curled with pride. “And I’d do it again.”_

_To her surprise, Draco grinned. “Good, I deserved it.”_

_Iris’ jaw went slack._

_“What is this?” Draco furrowed his brow as he reached out and pulled at a strand of gold ribbon that was coming loose from Iris’ braid. She was too surprised by the gesture to slap Draco’s hand away, only the pressure released as the ribbon unraveled from her braid brought her back to reality._

_Draco smirked with delight as he curled the ribbon around his fingers._

_“Malfoy give it back.” She tried to snatch it from his grasp but failed. “Parvati let me borrow it for the match and she will murder me if I don’t return it.”_

_“No.” Draco slipped the ribbon into the pocket of his Quidditch trousers. “It’s mine now.”_

_Iris clenched her fists at her side. “Malfoy, give it back or I will give Madam Pomfrey a reason to keep you overnight.”_

_Draco’s eyes twinkled with delight as he parted his lips to reply, but the light was extinguished within his silver orbs instantly when he was interrupted by a cold, grating voice that raised the hair on the back of Iris’ neck._

_“Threatening my son while he’s laid up in a hospital bed?” Lucius Malfoy drawled. “One would expect better from a Gryffindor.”_

_The elder Malfoy eyed Iris with menacing curiosity and she felt a mixture of nausea and rage bloom within her—she’d met the ex-Death Eater once before at Flourish and Blotts in August._

_She’d been chasing after Draco, determined to return a page the boy had ripped out of a book, and had stumbled right into a flurry of words being exchanged between Lucius and Arthur Weasley. The conversation had ended with Arthur hurling himself at Lucius hoping to leave a few scars._

_“Mister Malfoy.” She gritted through her teeth._

_“Iris Sinclair.” Lucius’ lips curled arrogantly. “I believe that debacle at Flourish and Blotts prevented us from being properly introduced.” His eyes flicked from Draco back to Iris. “However, I feel as if I know you well already—Draco has told me all about you.”_

_Iris furrowed her brow in confusion at Lucius’ words and glanced towards Draco. The amusement that had been visible upon the boy’s face minutes before had been replaced by an unreadable, blank expression._

_She could only imagine the kind of poison that spewed from Draco’s mouth when he spoke about her to his father._

_“All great things I’m sure.” She crossed her arms defiantly._

_“Oh yes only the most complimentary. . .despite your upbringingof course.” Lucius sneered._

_Iris’ temper flared—he was trying to intimidate her, but she didn’t scare easily._

_“I’ll have you know, Mister Malfoy, that I’m proud to be a Muggle-born.” Iris spat. “And I’ve discovered that those that find my blood status inferior to theirs do so only out of the insecurity-especially when they feel the desire to belittle me for it.”_

_Lucius Malfoy narrowed his eyes at her._

_“That short temper of yours will get you into trouble one day, Miss Sinclair. You and your friends.” He declared as his gaze shifted towards the crowd of Gryffindors briefly. “Now if you don’t mind, I need to have a few words with my son. Alone.”_

_Lucius squeezed Draco’s shoulder and he flinched at his father’s touch._

_“I’ll leave you to it.” Iris said._

_She risked one last glance at Draco and the fear in his eyes almost convinced her to stay. Lucius cleared his throat loudly as she lingered by Draco’s bedside, as she found herself hesitant to leave the boy that reveled in antagonizing her and her friends alone with his father._

_Iris tore her eyes away from Draco reluctantly and glared at Lucius with as much intensity as she could muster before gladly returning to the safety and comfort of her Housemates._

_It wasn’t until much later that evening, as she was trying to fall asleep, that she was reminded of the gold ribbon._

_Lucius Malfoy’s arrival had interrupted her effort to retrieve it from Draco and she imagined that it was now laying at the bottom of a trash bin in the Slytherin Common Room._

_“Bloody hell.” Iris groaned into her pillow._

_Parvati was going to murder her._

**September 10, 2000**

Sunday afternoon sunlight poured through the only window in Iris’ bedroom. She lay belly flat on top of her scarlet duvet as she read through her latest purchase from Flourish and Blotts, _The Holyhead Harpies: Witches for the Modern Era._

Ginny’s tryout for the all-female Quidditch team was later that month and Iris was reading up on the Harpies and their history out of the hope that she may find any tips or tricks that could give Ginny an extra edge. 

After escaping Pansy’s balcony Friday evening, Ginny had pulled her aside the second she set her sights on her and apologized for being cold. Iris, admiring Ginny’s fierce devotion to Harry, assured her there were no hard feelings.

Despite witnessing Ginny’s outreach, Harry left for 12 Grimmauld Place minutes later without speaking a word to Iris.

Iris had been set on leaving, not feeling too keen on spending more time with Pansy, but Hermione had insisted she stay, and she found it near impossible to refuse her best friend.

As Iris settled into her spot next to Ron on the sectional, Draco returned from the outside only to inform Blaise and Pansy that he would be spending the rest of the weekend at his grandmother’s estate and that, _under no circumstances_ , were they to contact him until Monday morning.

Draco had refused to look Iris’ way before he left.

The rest of the night at Pansy’s was a blur.

Iris refused to speak to Pansy, for good reason, and to lighten the mood, Blaise and Ron challenged one another other to a drinking contest—whoever downed the most bottles of ale in three minutes won.

Ron beat Blaise by four bottles.

Unfortunately, Ron’s superior chugging ability did not go well with his low alcohol tolerance. Not long after, he’d barely been able to keep his eyes open, so Iris and Hermione bid farewell to the Slytherins and walked Ron back to his flat, afraid that he might get Splinched if they tried to Apparate.

George Weasley had doubled over in laughter when Iris and Hermione appeared outside the entrance of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes with his youngest brother. It was a shame because George’s howls of amusement had interrupted Ron’s convincing argument that Percy must be adopted as he had the personality of a spoiled cabbage.

Afterwards, Hermione had opted to stay overnight and watch over Ron, not that she needed much convincing to do so, and Iris had Apparated home to 12 Grimmauld Place.

Saturday, she’d wasted most of the day lying in bed—she had slept until well into the afternoon and had spent nearly an hour cuddling with Nyx, stroking the cat’s snow-white fur.

In preparation for her visit to St. Mungo’s the next day, Iris had called her parents from the Muggle cellphone she kept in the drawer of her bedside table. It had been a brief, emotionless conversation and Martha Sinclair had ended the phone call after only five minutes.

Iris missed the days when she would call home using the old rotary phone in the Muggle Studies classroom. Professor Burbage often had to beg her to return to the Gryffindor dormitory because she’d been talking to her parents for hours.

The call with her parents, combined with the arguments with Harry and Draco from the day before, put her in a foul mood. She had also not been ready to speak to Harry who, according to Kreacher, had been spending the day with Ginny in Edinburgh.

To perk up her day, Iris Apparated to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes and spent the rest of the evening helping Ron run the shop. Ron was the only one of the four of them that didn’t work at the Ministry and that made it difficult at times for their schedules to align, so Iris helped out at the joke shop whenever he or George needed it.

After Ron and Iris closed the shop, George brought a _crate_ of bottled Butterbeers from The Three Broomsticks back to the flat after meeting Oliver Wood and Lee Jordan for drinks. Hermione popped by not long after and Iris spent the rest of the night downing drinks and playing wizard chess with the Weasley brothers and her favorite witch.

It was the sort of heartwarming scenario that Iris had needed desperately.

A knock at her half-open bedroom door tore her eyes away from the book in her hands.

Harry leaned against the doorframe, dressed in an oversized navy jumper with a white long-sleeve tee underneath, and jeans. Iris was less well-dressed as she had thrown on an old Chudley Cannons sweatshirt and black joggers the second she had returned from St. Mungo’s that morning.

Harry’s eyes collided with hers and the worry visible within his emerald orbs made her heart flip.

“Can I come in?” He asked cautiously.

Harry’s thick, raven-black hair was sticking up at all angles as per usual, but Iris noticed for the first time that he had a bit of a scruffy, close-cut beard growing.

“Yeah, uh, of course.” She answered as she closed her book.

Harry drifted inside and Iris pointed at his facial hair, “How long have you been growing that out?”

“Not long, Ginny asked me to do it. She charmed the hair so it would grow faster.” Harry ran his fingers along his jaw. “It’s only been a few days so I’m still trying to get used to it, but I think I like it.”

“It looks nice.” Iris sat up and crossed her legs. “You know I’d tell you if it didn’t.”

“Yeah, I know.” Harry chuckled lightly as he sat next to her on the bed.

They sat there in awkward silence for a few moments, Iris pulled at a loose duvet thread and Harry fiddled with his glasses. Later on, she wondered how long they would’ve sat like that if Nyx hadn’t waltzed into the bedroom and meowed at the two of them before disappearing underneath Iris’ bed.

Iris and Harry met eyes at the cat’s rude interruption.

“I’m sorry.” They blurted out at once.

Harry smiled weakly and Iris sighed in relief.

“Me, first.” Harry placed a hand over his chest. “I’m sorry about the Malfoy situation. I should’ve come to you days beforehand and asked how you felt about the mentorship and the living situation. I was wrong and I should’ve given you time to come to terms with it instead of ambushing you.”

“Or given me time to talk you out of it.” Iris said pointedly.

“Or that.” Harry laughed. “As for the Lucius ordeal, I apologize for the snide comments about your drinking and for making those empty threats about taking you off the case, but I need you to understand the formation of the deal itself was not my doing. I should’ve involved you the second after I was approached by Gobards and Kingsley, but once again, I thought informing you once all the details had been gathered was the best path.”

“I hate to admit it, but you were right on that last bit.” Iris admitted reluctantly. “I would’ve tried to demolish the deal from the inside out as soon as I heard and that would’ve only made things more difficult for you. The thought of bargaining Lucius’ imprisonment for information makes me ill.”

“I’m not thrilled about it either.” Harry squeezed her hand. “I’m on your side, but we have to pay our dues. We’re not kids without orders to abide by any longer.”

“I know, I know, and I would’ve been more open to it if Draco wasn’t involved. His relationship with his father, the things he used to tell me I—” She shook her head to clear her thoughts. “My senses have been overwhelmed him around and I took it out on you. I apologize a thousand times over for calling you a shallow, fame-hungry arsehole. That was out of line.”

Harry had yet to release her hand when she smiled cheekily and said, “I mean, you are an arsehole, but an enjoyable one most days.”

“Shut up.” Harry laughed and lightly shoved her shoulder. “Apology accepted.”

Iris arched an eyebrow. “And?”

The confusion was evident on Harry’s face. “And?”

Iris punched him in the shoulder. “Don’t tell me you already forgot that you outed my early morning excursions to Draco? After that last jab, I had your murder planned out to the very last detail. I might have gone through with it if Hermione hadn’t of talked me down.”

“First, ow?” Harry rubbed where her fist had collided with his shoulder. “And second, in my defense I wasn’t the one that noticed—Malfoy is very observant.” He leveled his gaze at her. “I just used the information to drive the knife in deeper, but yes, I’m sorry for that too.”

“Apology accepted.” Iris nodded victoriously and then she grasped the entirety of what Harry had just revealed. “Wait, Draco told _you?_ Not the other way around?” 

“He told me he’s a light sleeper, so he heard you running around at the crack of dawn.” Harry stated matter-of-factly. “He also said he feels honored that you would go to such lengths just to avoid seeing how dashing he looks in the morning.”

Iris groaned exasperatedly and fell backwards onto the duvet. “Bloody hell.”

As soon as Iris’ head hit the duvet, Ginny pushed the bedroom door the rest of the way open with a flourish.

“I’m here, I’m here, I know you’ve been _desperately_ awaiting my arrival.” Ginny exclaimed. She twirled in place and then her lips, that had been curled with delight, formed an ‘o’ shape at the sight of Iris sprawled out on the duvet.

“Harry!” Ginny shouted and Harry’s eyes went wide. “What did you do? I said you needed to talk to her, not do whatever _this_ is!” Ginny motioned towards Iris’ motionless body before sitting beside her protectively.

“We did talk! We’re fine!” Harry threw his hands in the air. “This happened when I brought up Malfoy knowing about her sneaking out.”

Ginny gasped. “Harry Potter, have I taught you nothing?”

“Thank Merlin, you got here in the nick of time Gin.” Iris sat up weakly and laid her chin on Ginny’s shoulder. “Harry was minutes away from sending me into a downward spiral.” She whined.

Ginny gasped again and looped an arm around Iris, narrowing her eyes at Harry.

“You two deserve each other.” Harry shook his head and the two women laughed loudly.

Seconds later, a _pop_ outside Iris’ bedroom drew all of their eyes towards Kreacher waiting in the hallway.

“Master, Mistress, and . . . _Weasley.”_ Kreacher said Ginny’s surname with disdain and the redhead narrowed her eyes at the House-Elf. “Kreacher could use some assistance in sorting through the rest of Master Regulus’ belongings from the attic.”

“I’ll help!” Iris exclaimed—she was desperate for any opportunity to snoop through the Black family’s old possessions.

“I have to meet Neville at Hogwarts.” Harry said. “I’m sorry, Kreacher.”

Professor Sprout retired last spring and Headmistress McGonagall hired Neville on as the newest Herbology professor at Hogwarts per Sprout’s recommendation.

“I’ll stay here and help Kreacher and Iris. You know how Neville gets around his beloved plants.” Ginny side-eyed Iris and snickered. 

“Oh, I know.” Harry sighed as he stood from the bed. “I’ll be there for hours.”

Harry bent over to kiss Ginny on the cheek and then reached out and tugged at one of Iris’ curls.

“I’m glad we’re back to normal.”

“When have we ever been normal?” Iris smirked.

"You're right." Harry chuckled.

Iris watched as he left her bedroom, giving Kreacher a pat on the shoulder on his way out.

____________________________

“Kreacher, do you mind if I take a look at one of these?” Iris asked.

Iris and Ginny were sitting on the floor of Kreacher’s bedroom surrounded by boxes that the House-Elf had floated down from the attic. They had sifted through nearly all of Regulus’ old things by sunset, the most intriguing of the boxes held worn-out Slytherin Quidditch gear from the ‘70s. 

The box that Iris was sifting through presently, the heaviest one in fact, was filled to the brim with old leather journals and she was dying to open one. 

Kreacher hesitated at Iris’ curiosity and she understood why. By opening one of Regulus’ journals, she was becoming privy to the boy’s innermost thoughts and Kreacher had been the guardian of those thoughts for decades.

The House-Elf’s eyes roamed the box of brown and black leather journals with great care before signaling his agreeance with a simple nod.

“Thank you.” Iris said as she reached for the black journal precariously placed on top. It was tied closed with a strip of leather and the binding was held together by only a few thick strands of twine.

She unraveled the strip of leather and the smell of old parchment wafted around her as the journal sprung open.

On the inside cover were initials she was all too familiar with: _R.A.B._

Instead of beginning with Regulus’ first entry, Iris flipped through the pages until she reached his last. The last entry could be found only halfway through journal and Iris’ heart squeezed as she realized Regulus died before he could fill the rest of the pages.

“Let me see.” Ginny vocalized before scooting closer to Iris so she could read the entry from beside her.

The last entry was dated ten days before Regulus’ death. Ink blots decorated the page and Regulus had put so much pressure on his quill that the entry had been imprinted clearly onto several blank pages afterwards.

_ December 21, 1979 _

_I’m not well._

_I’m in constant pain._

_I’ve grown so thin I fear if I turn my wrist the wrong way it will break._

_I feel the presence of the Dark Mark everywhere. It slithers through my veins and up and down my spine. It searches for any semblance of betrayal to the one that burned it into my arm and I’m afraid of what will occur once it finds what it knows is there._

_It has been some time since I left my bedroom. I stare at the skeletal creatures that hang from my ceiling and I watch as they sway back and forth, hanging on by a thread. That is how I envision myself . . . a skeletal shell tied to this world by a single thread._

_I’m not sleeping, and as result, my mind is playing tricks on me._

_I hear her. Her voice screams my name and I have grown so used to the hallucination that I welcome the sound. I have lost her._

_I have lost Sirius._

_Kreacher is my only ally._

_I will avenge the pain Kreacher endured at the hands of the Dark Lord._

_And if I lose my life for doing so, I welcome the embrace of Death._

Iris’s heart ached as she finished reading the entry. She shut the journal and placed it back on top of the pile of in the box. The hopelessness Regulus felt in his last days—she knew that feeling all too well.

“Bloody hell.” Ginny whispered.

“Kreacher, was Regulus involved with anyone before he died? Regulus mentions a _"her"_ in his last journal entry.” Iris glanced at the House-Elf who was now sorting through a pile of Regulus’ old sweaters.

Kreacher refused to meet Iris’ eyes. “Kreacher does not know Mistress. Master Regulus had many secrets that Kreacher was not privy to.”

Iris was taken aback by the House-Elf’s closed off manner. “Kreacher, if this woman is still alive, and if she was involved with Regulus, she may be aware of Death Eater haunts from the First Wizarding War. She could have information that would be useful to the Auror Office.”

Kreacher threw down the sweater he was holding, and Iris and Ginny flinched at the outburst.

“Kreacher wishes he could be more helpful but Kreacher must prepare dinner.” He explained monotonously before exiting his bedroom with a _pop,_ forgoing Iris the chance to push further.

“That was strange . . .” Ginny observed. “Even for Kreacher.”

“Even for Kreacher.” She agreed.

Iris retrieved the black leather journal from the box.

Kreacher had lied to her.

And she would find out why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello darlings! Regulus Black's past is going to be an essential part of this story and I'm so excited to share what I have planned. 
> 
> Warning: Draco was up to no good in Austria.
> 
> Much love. xo.


	9. STORY NOTICE (NOT A CHAPTER UPDATE) (PLEASE READ)

Hello hello! 

I apologize that this isn't the chapter update you all have been waiting for so eagerly, but I owed it to you all to give you an update on the story. 

Iris and Draco's story IS going to be continued, that I can promise you, but as I was struggling to write Chapter 17, I felt myself becoming out of touch with The Other Golden Girl and the characters I love so much. To reemerge myself within the story, as some of you may have noticed already, I’ve been proofreading and revising the story from the very beginning. 

No major plot points have been changed, it's been more of a process of achieving more fluidity from chapter to chapter and catching silly grammar/punctuation mistakes, but returning readers will notice slight differences. 

With that being said, to my **returning readers** , I would recommend rereading the chapters as I continue to revise and update them, but it's not required. You'll be able to pick up where we left off as soon as I publish Chapter 17 with or without rereading and I sincerely appreciate your patience as you wait for me to finish this revision process before publishing a new chapter. 

For any **new readers** , if you reached this point, you may either stop here or you can continue to read the chapters that come after, 9-16, but just be aware that those chapters have not yet been revised and you may notice some errors or minor details that weren't present in chapters 1-8. 

Thank you all again for your patience and love for this story, all I ask is for a little more time to continue to make it as best as it can be. 

Much love. xo. 


	10. Old Wounds

**September 10, 2000**

Iris spent the rest of the evening pouring over Regulus Black’s inner thoughts.

A fierce desire to uncover the truth had rooted itself within her after Kreacher’s dismissal and, once she retrieved the boy’s journal from the box, she retreated to her bedroom to study its contents while Ginny raced downstairs to grab some glasses and a bottle of wine.

The redhead returned to Iris’ bedroom with all she had left for as well as two plates of Sunday roast—Kreacher, after running into Ginny in the kitchen, had sent her up with the food and disappeared upstairs without a word.

The House-Elf’s continued brush off bothered Iris greatly, but she compartmentalized it for another day. She needed to ask the right questions to get any answers out of Kreacher and to figure out what those were, she had to spend some time with Regulus Black. 

Hours passed as she read through the half empty journal with Ginny at her side.

Night had encompassed London, and Iris’ bedroom, by the time Harry returned from his visit to Hogwarts and found the pair of witches situated on the floor near the fireplace—illuminated by the roaring flames were their figures hunched over the journal, as well as the outlines of the empty plates and half-filled glasses of wine.

“What sort of madness—Someone care to explain why the two of you are reading and drinking in the dark?” Harry asked incredulously as he eyed the journal and the wine glasses.

“Shush, I’m almost done!” Iris held up a finger as she reread the words of Regulus’ final entry.

Harry’s eyes widened and he looked to Ginny for an explanation.

“Hey, this is all Iris.” Ginny held her hands up in surrender. “I’m just along for the ride.”

Ginny’s words amplified the concern that had crossed Harry’s face and he sauntered over to where the girls were sitting, flipping the switch on Iris’ ceiling light before doing so.

“The light! It burns!” Ginny shielded her eyes with her hands as Harry settled on the floor next to her. He chuckled at her outrage and plucked Ginny’s wine glass from beside her, downing the rest of the liquid.

Iris slammed the journal shut and exhaled deeply. “Finished.”

“Finished with what, dare I ask?” Harry eyed her suspiciously as he set the wine glass down.

“ _Harry Potter._ Don’t look at me like that.” Iris glared before waving the journal towards him frantically. “You see this? This is the last journal Regulus Black kept before he died and it’s _outstanding._ Everything we thought we knew about Regulus, everything Sirius told us, it wasn’t even half the story.”

“And by that you mean what exactly?” Harry asked.

“This is going to sound like the ramblings of a mad woman so stay with me here.” Iris warned. “I believe that, from what lies within these pages, that I could convince Gobards and Kingsley to put a hold on the Lucius Malfoy deal.”

Harry’s lips parted in disbelief. “Iris I thought we were past—”

 _“We_ are, I’m not.” She interrupted him. “I’ve been racking my brain, looking for a solution to this mess we’ve been thrown into, and a possible saving grace quite literally landed in my lap. Just give me a minute of your open-minded, undivided attention—that’s all I ask.” 

“That’s _all_ you ask? You’re talking about involving our bosses after what? A few hours of light reading?” He shook his head exasperatedly. “I thought after our conversation earlier that you’d come to terms with the fact that this is our last resort.”

Iris had expected this reaction and side-eyed Ginny, signaling the redhead to come to her aid.

“Harry, hear her out.” Ginny laid her hand on Harry’s knee. “It’s the least you could do.”

“The least I could—” Harry scoffed as his eyes darted to meet Ginny’s.

Ginny leveled her gaze at Harry, arching an eyebrow daringly, and Iris watched as the tension slowly released from his shoulders, the lines of frustration on his face softening as he sighed and intertwined his fingers with the redhead’s.

“Go on, you loon.” Harry shifted his gaze back to Iris. “Tell me everything.”

Iris grinned victoriously.

“This journal includes entries from Regulus’ Seventh Year at Hogwarts up until days before he died. He discusses all one would expect from the journal of a seventeen-year-old Death Eater—the tasks he was assigned by the Dark Lord, his distaste for nearly all things Muggle, and his desire to leave a lasting legacy upon the Wizarding World.”

Harry opened his mouth to speak but Iris raised her pointer finger to halt him.

“But that’s not all.” Iris’ lips curled with delight. “Once you get past the first twenty pages or so of Pureblood mania, the tone shifts. He starts writing about someone other than himself and the Dark Lord—a Muggle-Born witch. A witch he becomes infatuated with.”

“A Muggle-Born? Are you sure?” Harry asked disbelievingly. “Regulus’ loyalties may have shifted, but he was still a Death Eater, still a Black. He never seemed the type to befriend Muggle-Borns, let alone fallfor one.”

“Positive. I know it doesn’t make sense. That’s why I couldn’t stop reading.” Iris opened the journal and flipped to an entry from October of 1978. “But listen to this, this is the first entry that mentions her.”

_ October 20, 1978 _

_The Dark Mark still resists the Disillusionment Charm I cast on it every morning. It feels as if my arm is being forced into the flames of a fire as I camouflage it against my skin—scorching my veins and boiling my blood._

_It’s a necessary pain for what I must accomplish._

_It’s been nearly a decade since the Dark Lord released his forces upon the Wizarding World. Innocence has been lost, hearts have turned to stone, and it is now his wish that I bring about the beginning of the end._

_That is proving to be more difficult than expected, in part because of Horace Slughorn’s interference._

_I pretend that I don’t notice the way his eyes roam over my forearm when the skin is exposed, searching for the Dark Mark. I answer vaguely when he asks questions regarding my future after Hogwarts, never cementing myself with one lie._

_I thought resuming my position as Slytherin’s Seeker would throw the old man off my scent, but his suspicions remained. As result, an extra pair of eyes watches me closely now—a Mudblood, a girl that I am all too familiar with, that Slughorn has assigned as my tutor for the N.E.W.T.S._

_I’ve fallen behind in my courses and her overbearing presence is my punishment._

_I feel her glare at this very moment. She sits across the Great Hall, idly stirring her tea while she watches me scribble. I’ve caught her before, but she never looks away—not a hint of embarrassment ever crossing her features._

_She’s graduating early, late April, if I’ve heard correctly._

_It seems she can’t stand to be stuck inside this castle for a minute longer than she has to be._

_I understand entirely._

_She’s lost without Lily Evans and Marlene McKinnon at her side, without that revolting werewolf trailing her every step, without Potter, Pettigrew, and my traitor of a brother testing her last nerve._

_It’s unfortunate we’re on opposing sides. I could’ve tried to convince the Dark Lord she was one of the unworthy worth saving, as Severus continues to try to do for Lily. She’s just as clever, just as brilliant._

_The thought of such a deed would’ve never crossed my mind a year ago._

_I must keep my distance._

Iris finished reading the words out loud to Harry and Ginny, reaching the massive ink blot smeared at the end of the entry.

 _“One of the unworthy worth saving”_ reeks of blood superiority.” Harry’s face twisted with disgust. “But this girl, she was friends with my mum? With my dad? With Remus, Sirius, the whole lot? If that’s true, why is this the first we’re hearing of her?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even know her name, Regulus never writes it—not once.” Iris shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t think she ever became a member of the Order, not officially, but that still doesn’t explain why the mention of another witch being that close with your mother, your father, and their dearest friends can only be found within the writings of a dead man.”

“It’s odd, odd enough for an investigation of some sorts but, I’m struggling to see why this should be presented to Gobards and Kingsley.” Harry said. “Why would this put a halt to the Lucius deal? What are you planning?”

“I want to find her.” Iris declared. “I want to find this woman. I want to know why her identity is such a secret, I want to know if she was put into hiding or if her memory was wiped. Most importantly, I want to know if she’s still alive.”

“Iris—”

“No. Listen.” She pleaded. “Regulus told her everything. _Everything._ He’s vague about the specifics in the journal, saving the details for her ears only, so just imagine what she knows. She could know the locations of Death Eater hideouts from the First Wizarding War, hideouts that Greyback could be using this very minute.”

“Iris, she most likely died during the War.” Harry stated bluntly. “If she knew that much, I don’t see how Regulus could’ve kept that secret from Voldemort.”

“That’s the thing—Regulus was a trained Occlumens and Legilimens.” Iris pointed out. “His thoughts wouldn’t have been privy to Voldemort’s tricks. He writes about practicing relentlessly with none other than Snape himself, especially after his relationship with this witch developed.”

“You realize this plan you’ve concocted is all based on a hunch, on hope?” Harry sighed. “The only evidence you have is in your hands.”

“For now. The only evidence she has is in her hands, _for now.”_ Ginny chimed in. “There were earlier journals she could’ve delved into but—” 

Iris pressed a finger to her lips to quiet Ginny and whispered, “But that’s another issue entirely.”

“Why are you whispering?” Harry’s eyes widened. “What other issue?”

“Kreacher was with Ginny and I when I read Regulus’ last entry for the first time.” Iris whispered. “When I asked him about the girl, he lied and claimed not to know a thing. I aggravated him when I pushed further, and he vanished downstairs.”

The transition to a hushed tone was essential—Kreacher’s ears were enormous and Iris was aware that the House-Elf had probably heard more than she or Harry had ever intended him to.

“And then,” Iris continued, “close to forty minutes before you got home, I asked Ginny to grab the rest of the journals, out of the slim chance they had some more answers—”

“But when I passed by the study, I caught Kreacher throwing _journal after journal_ into the fireplace.” Ginny added. “As soon as he noticed me watching, he wiggled his skinny little fingers and the door slammed in my face.”

“Kreacher is very private.” Harry furrowed his brow. “And you know how he is when it comes to the Blacks, Sirius excluded. He’s sensitive and burning the journals was probably his way of saying goodbye, his way of leaving Regulus with an ounce of privacy left.”

“I suppose.” Iris pondered. “But he’s still a lead. One of four, in fact.”

“You have _leads?_ As in plural?”

“I have to have a plan of action if I’m going to present my findings to Gobards and Kingsley.”

Iris could see Harry’s intrigue growing by the minute. “Alright, then, tell me. Who are your leads?”

She smirked and held up three fingers. “First up, Andromeda Tonks—Regulus’ first cousin. She’s a longshot because she was a few years older but it’s worth a try.” She laid a finger down. “Next, Horace Slughorn, Head of Slytherin during Regulus’ entire education at Hogwarts and, according to Regulus’ own words, is the one that assigned the Muggle-Born with as his tutor.”

Iris laid a second finger down as she reached her last lead—the one she was most anxious to avoid.

“Lastly, Narcissa Malfoy.” Iris grumbled. “Possibly the most promising lead besides Slughorn as she was only a couple years older than Regulus and was very present during the First Wizarding War.” She laid her last finger down. “She’s also one of the last living members of the Black family besides Andromeda and—”

“Draco.” Ginny finished for her.

Iris nodded solemnly.

“Andromeda would be glad to have you visit, but I agree she might not know much.” Harry replied. “When you stop by Hogwarts to speak with Slughorn, it wouldn’t hurt to pay McGonagall a visit as well—The House ghosts might also know a thing or two." He rubbed his free hand over the scruff on his jaw. "Narcissa, on the other hand, well. . .”

Harry knew that contacting Narcissa would once again tear open the old wounds that tied Iris to Draco. It would also mean giving Draco a significant role within her scheme and Iris was rightfully hesitant to do so.

“Are you giving me advice?” Iris smiled. “Are you, dare I say, _consulting?_ Because that would mean—”

“You’ve got me. The case has potential.” Harry admitted. “Together, we can send Patronuses to Gobards and Kingsley in the morning. We should be able to use our _‘We Saved the World’_ card one last time to get them to rearrange their meetings for tomorrow.”

A rush of euphoria washed over Iris and she hurled herself at Harry.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She exclaimed as their bodies collided with the wooden floor.

Ginny barely escaped Iris’ ambush, freeing her hand from Harry’s and scrambling away quickly.

Harry laughed into her ear. “I’ve never counted you out before, Iris Sinclair, and I don’t plan on starting now.”

**September 11, 2000**

The next morning Iris was practically skipping down the stairs of 12 Grimmauld Place. After Harry had agreed to help her set up a meeting with Kingsley, she had spent the rest of the night going over her to plan to convince the Minister of Magic to support her endeavor.

If Kingsley allowed a few uninterrupted weeks for her to pursue her leads, Iris felt confident in a way she couldn’t describe that her meddling would lead to something great.

Iris’ confidence had put her in such a good mood that she had forgotten about her and Harry’s house guest until she smacked directly into his bare chest on the second-floor landing.

“Watch where you’re going, Sinclair.” Draco Malfoy drawled.

Iris jolted backwards and the air was knocked from her lungs. Draco was standing before her dressed only in a pair of black joggers. Her cheeks warmed as she noticed that the thin, sharp-edged boy she had fallen for in school had transformed into a lean, muscled man.

She hated that he still had such a physical effect on her.

Her eyes traced the lines of Draco’s _Sectumsempra_ scar and her stomach flipped. That had been one of the most terrifying moments of her life. She had spent the entire night at his side in the Hospital Wing.

“You have got to stop staring, Sinclair.” Draco smirked.

Iris was drawn from her thoughts and narrowed her eyes at him. “I was not staring.”

“Liar.”

Iris groaned. “We wear clothes in this house, you know.”

“This is how I’ve been dressed for breakfast for the last week.” Draco snapped. “You would know that if you hadn’t been sneaking out at the crack of dawn just to avoid me.”

“I was not _sneaking out_ I was exercising a strong work ethic.” Iris narrowed her eyes and brushed past him. “How was Austria? Did you spend the weekend drowning in self-loathing? Or did you try to rid yourself of all that leftover teenage angst by stomping through the halls and cursing the portraits of your ancestors?”

Draco laughed mockingly as Iris stepped down the staircase to the first floor.

“Ask Rita Skeeter.” He said casually and then disappeared from Iris’ view.

The Daily Prophet was waiting for Iris on her desk like an omen determined to ruin her day. The downside of no longer arriving at work earlier than every Auror in the department meant that she could no longer rid the office of the drab and drivel of the Prophet’s journalists.

Iris only had a few minutes alone to rehearse her plan before Harry was to swing by and grab her for their meeting with Kingsley. He had managed to snag a half hour with the Minister and Iris wanted to use each minute she had to plead her case.

Iris walked towards her desk, prepared to the throw the paper into the trash bin, when a minor headline on the front page caught her attention.

_“Draco Malfoy Courting in Austria? Rita Skeeter Tells All!”_

“Oh, you have got to be _fucking_ kidding.” She said out loud.

Draco’s voice replayed in her mind. _Ask Rita Skeeter._

Iris walked towards the fireplace in her office Prophet in hand. Iris threw herself into an armchair situated near the flames and she flipped to the page for the article, her eyes burning holes into the newspaper.

_ “Draco Malfoy Spotted Strolling the Austrian Countryside with Bride-To-Be?” _

_I have received trustworthy intel, and photographic evidence, that the young Lord Malfoy has begun his search for a bride! Pureblood family custom states that a young lord, or lady, must marry before their 21st birthday and as Draco celebrated his 20th birthday this June, he has less than a year to follow familial tradition. A match with a respectable Pureblood woman would be just the sort of social move to restore good graces to the Malfoy name. _

_Pictured below are Lord Malfoy and Miss Astoria Greengrass. The former Slytherins were acquainted throughout their education at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and it seems friendship has blossomed into something far more interesting! Draco whisked Astoria away for a **romantic** weekend at his grandmother’s estate in the Austria. A source close to the couple states that Lord Malfoy has been planning this trip ever since he was released from house arrest this summer. _

_Witnesses say the blossoming couple looked every bit the perfect match as they moved from stall to stall of the outside marketplace in the town of Feldkirch._

_Could this be love? Stay with me, Rita Skeeter, over the next few months as we follow Draco Malfoy’s journey to find the perfect bride!_

The photographic evidence Rita had mentioned in the beginning of the article were moving pictures of Draco and Astoria with their arms linked as they strolled down the streets of Feldkirch, Austria.

A knock at her office door drew Iris’ attention away from the article. “Iris, it’s Harry.”

“Come in.” She grumbled, returning her gaze back to one of the pictures of Draco and Astoria. Astoria smiled upwards at Draco, acting every bit the part of a Pureblood princess. Meanwhile, Draco was pointedly looking at the camera, a smirk growing on his face.

“Can I borrow your Prophet? I know you never read that sort of trash, but I-” Harry stopped mid-sentence as he entered Iris’ office and noticed the newspaper clutched tightly in her hands.

“Nice try.” Iris met his eyes over the paper briefly and then returned her gaze to the sickeningly sweet photographs. In the next photograph, Astoria was leaning forward towards a florist, smiling brightly as he handed her a red rose. Draco stood at Astoria’s side with a protective arm looped around her waist.

In the last photograph, Draco pushed Astoria’s blonde hair behind her ear and kissed her cheek as they sipped on lattes at an outside café. The sight of Astoria’s smile when Draco’s lips touched her cheek made Iris’ nauseous.

Without another thought, Iris crumpled the paper in her hands and threw it into the fireplace. With glee, she watched as the flames burned the photographs of Draco and Astoria to nothing but ash.

She looked back over at Harry who was looking at her with wide eyes. “Did you know he was going to be _entertaining this_ weekend?” She asked.

“Believe it or not, Malfoy and I tend to keep our conversations purely professional. I’m not that interested in his personal life.” Harry arched a brow and met Iris’ eyes.

She scoffed at his insinuation. “Neither am I Harry! It’s just hard to ignore when the Prophet is obsessed with his every move. The last thing I want to see is him parading around Daphne Greengrass’ little sister as his Pureblood princess of choice!”

Iris wrung her hands out in frustration. She was breathing heavy and the pit in her stomach was only growing-this shouldn’t be bothering her as much as it was.

Harry, aware of the obvious shift in Iris’ mood from annoyance to anger to _something else_ , walked towards her and squeezed her arms. “Do you need anything?” He asked.

Iris groaned and squeezed the bridge of her nose. “If you could be so kind to spread through the department that I will hex the next witch or wizard that makes the mistake of placing the Prophet in my office I would greatly appreciate it.” 

“You can’t go around hexing people. You won’t make friends that way.” The scolding sarcasm was evident in Harry’s voice. “There’s easier ways to ignore Draco’s love life.”

“I don’t need new friends. You lot are more than enough for me to deal with on a day-to-day basis.” Iris looked at him pointedly. “Speaking of, where is your _delightful_ ward?”

“He’s meeting us outside Kingsley’s office.” Harry said as the pair made their way towards Iris’ office door. “I sent him on a tea and coffee run as soon as we arrived.”

“Using him as an assistant? Brilliant.” Iris snickered.

“I have my moments.” Harry held out his arm. “Now, shall we?” He winked as he mimicked his exact stance from the night of the Yule Ball. Iris had been Harry’s date that night.

Ron had been the only one of their group of four to not to stride in with one of the Triwizard competitors. Ron had waited until the last possible minute to look for a date and had ended up with Parvati _and_ Padma Patil.

The Yule Ball had also been the night of Iris’ first, _and second_ , kiss.

“We shall.” She laughed while looping her arm through Harry’s and he led her out the door.

The meeting wasn't going as well as Iris had hoped. 

Harry had offered to speak up when the meeting seemed to be going south but he had gotten Iris this far and she wanted to prove that she could seal the deal on her own. Unfortunately, Kingsley Shacklebolt, veteran member of the Order of the Phoenix and Minister of Magic, was not particularly keen on the idea of using Ministry resources to follow a _hunch._

“I just need three weeks. Give me three weeks to follow this lead, and if I find nothing but a speck of dust, I will escort Lucius Malfoy out of Azkaban myself.” Iris pleaded.

Kingsley sighed deeply at Iris’ request. “Do you understand the magnitude of what you're asking? My job is keep the Wizarding community safe and you're asking me to risk that. You're asking me to risk the lives of children, magical and Muggle alike.”

Iris gulped. “Yes I am.”

Kingsley laughed dryly. “Sinclair, you have bigger balls than any wizard in this room.” Kingsley glanced at Harry who shrugged his shoulders in acceptance. Draco remained stone faced from behind Iris and Harry with his arms crossed over his chest. 

“I admire your passion but I _cannot_ postpone Lucius Malfoy’s questioning. It would be irresponsible.” Kingsley determined and Iris’ heart sunk. “If your leads fall short, it hardly gives the Auror Department enough time to organize before the full moon. It’s too much of a risk.”

“I understand.” Iris sighed. “But what if instead of three weeks, you give me two? And what if the questioning of Lucius still goes as planned but we wait to use the house arrest incentive until after I’ve followed my leads?” Iris suggested.

Draco scoffed from behind her. “So, you want me to visit Azkaban out of the hope that my father will simply hand over information out of the kindness of his heart? That is idiotic.”

Iris spun around to face him. “Idiotic, yes, but it would buy the Ministry time.”

“No, it would buy _you_ time to follow this new obsession of yours.” Draco snapped. “This is barely even a lead-it’s the scribblings of a mentally disturbed teenager that has been dead for nearly twenty years.”

“I agree with the latter half of that statement.” Kingsley said and Iris spun on her heel to face the Minister. "You forget Iris that I knew the people you speak of and Regulus Black was not well for many years.” 

"He-" Iris began but Kingsley held up a hand to signal that he was not done speaking. 

“However, Iris, your past is proof enough that when you follow your instincts, you see what no one else has been able to. I’m willing to take this gamble on you, especially as it seems that the life of a forgotten witch may depend on it.” Kingsley clasped his hands together and glanced between Harry and Draco before settling his gaze on Iris. “I will support your pursuit of this lead under a few conditions.”

Iris grinned. "You won't regret this, I promise. What are your conditions?" 

“You have _two_ weeks to pursue your leads. On the 25th I expect you outside my office with the information, or lack of, that you have gathered. Kreacher _will be_ questioned, you may do it at your own discretion, but you will have to put your sentimentality aside.” Kingsley looked at Iris and Harry pointedly and they nodded in understanding.

“Iris I expect you to still take care of your minor cases while following your leads but, for the time being, the Greyback case will be handled by Harry and Auror Thomas.”

“Dean?” Iris exclaimed. “You’re going to hand over my portion of the case to _Dean Thomas_?”

Harry coughed and Iris glanced over at him. The message on his face was evident: _You’re doing well, don’t fuck it up now._

“Is that going to be a problem?” Kingsley arched an eyebrow.

Iris focused back on Kingsley and shook her head vigorously. “Not at all, please continue.”

Draco snorted from behind her.

“As I was saying, Dean will assist Harry for the next two weeks. He needs the experience.” Kingsley looked directly at Harry. “I understand asking you to catch Dean up on a case that has been years in the making, while also training a new Auror, is a lot to ask. To relieve any added stress, Iris will handle Draco’s training for the next two weeks and he will work with her on her leads.”

“You can’t be serious!” Iris exclaimed and then slapped a hand over her mouth. Harry coughed even louder and the look Kingsley directed at her told her she was already skating on thin ice.

“Iris.” Harry warned from beside her. "Thank you, Minister." Harry said. 

“I’m sorry. I respect the sentiment but is that _really_ necessary? Harry is more than capable of training while working with Dean. I’m going to be traveling to various locations and planning my trips around Mister Malfoy’s _personal schedule_ is going to be difficult.” Iris said.

“My personal schedule?” Draco questioned haughtily from behind her.

Iris didn’t bother turning around to face Draco. “Your _courtship_ of Astoria Greengrass? Rita Skeeter seemed thrilled to stumble upon that gold mine of gossip.”

“Sinclair. . .” Draco growled but Kingsley interrupted him.

“Iris, you will make this arrangement work or I refuse to support this endeavor.” Kingsley declared. 

Iris met Kingsley’s eyes and she saw the resolve there-she either accepted his conditions, _all of them_ , or she would be forced to give up. In her gut, she knew she needed to find the truth behind this mystery at whatever cost necessary. If she could handle being on the run, with the fate of the world on the shoulders of her and her friends, she could handle Draco Malfoy following her move every two weeks. 

“I’ll make it work. Thank you, Kingsley. I won’t let you down.” Iris affirmed.

Kingsley nodded. “It's settled. Now, the three of you will inform Auror Thomas of what we’ve discussed and Iris will take over Draco’s training starting tomorrow.” Kingsley glanced over at Draco. “When you will be visiting your father?”

“Thursday, at noon.” Draco responded. “But, Minister, if I may, I have a request of my own.”

Kingsley sighed in exasperation. “Yes?”

“Auror Sinclair must accompany me on Thursday or I refuse to go.”

“What? “That’s not happening.” Iris exclaimed. She turned around to face Draco, expecting an amused expression, but Draco's face was a cold, blank slate. 

“If that is the only way. . . " Kingsley questioned Draco and Draco nodded.

Kingsley sighed. "It's done. Iris you will go.” Kingsley motioned towards his office doors. “Now, the three of you, get out." 

Iris’ jaw dropped and Harry’s wide-eyed expression indicated to her that he had not seen this coming.

“Minister.” Draco said as he strode out of Kingsley’s office. Iris expressed her gratitude towards Kingsley once more before running after the blond menace.

She caught up to him near the lifts and spun him around to face her. “What are you playing at?” She snarled.

“If I’m going to be forced to follow you around while you delve into the secrets of my family’s past, I’m going to force you to do something you never thought you would have to.” Draco narrowed his eyes at her. “Visit my father and practice restraint.”

Draco glanced down at her hand and wrenched his arm out of her grasp. He stormed towards the doors that lead to the stairwell and left Iris standing alone by the lifts.

_Dear Andromeda,_

_I hope this letter reaches you well. How’s darling Teddy? I haven’t seen him since Harry’s birthday. Is his hair still changing colour every time he sneezes?_

_I wish I could say I was writing under lighter circumstances. I’ve been assisting Kreacher as he sorts through the last of Regulus’ belongings and I’ve discovered a curious bit of information in one of your cousin’s journals. I would greatly appreciate it if we could meet for tea this week so I could ask you a few questions._

_Your nephew would also be joining me._

_Sincerely,_

_Iris Sinclair_

After Iris finished penning her request to Andromeda, she visited the parliament of owls the Ministry used for the post. The owls were housed separately from the Ministry building in an otherwise average-sized tower similar to that of the one at Hogwarts.

After tying her letter to the leg of an owl and sending the bird on its way, Iris couldn’t help but feel the weight of her request on her shoulders.

She was once again meddling in the affairs of a lost boy born into a family of Pureblood mania. 

Iris’ meddlesome behavior had destroyed her last time.

She could only hope she was better prepared this time around. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm working on a Spotify playlist for this story and if you guys are interested, I'll post the link to it soon so you guys can check it out. 
> 
> Much love. xo.


	11. Draco's Constellation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: A panic attack is described within this chapter's flashback.

**May 16, 1993**

_Iris had barely slept a wink in eight days._

_For over a week, Iris had tossed and turned trying to sleep each night. She managed to get an hour or two of shuteye at most and bolted from Gryffindor Tower as soon as the sun began to rise. She wanted to spend every waking minute with Hermione in the Hospital Wing._

_Hermione, and Hufflepuff Penelope Clearwater, had been the latest victims of the Heir of Slytherin. They had been attacked by the monster terrorizing Hogwarts outside the library and the girls laid petrified in the Hospital Wing as result._

_Iris was torn apart by guilt at the sight of Hermione paralyzed on the hospital bed, but the guilt worsened when she wasn’t at her friend's side. Iris blamed herself for Hermione’s current state. Iris and Hermione spent hours in the library reading almost every Saturday. However, last Saturday Iris had opted to go to the Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff Quidditch match with Ron instead and right before the match was when Hermione had nearly been killed. Iris had convinced herself that if she had been with Hermione, she could’ve prevented the attack._

_Harry and Ron were just as worried about Iris as they were Hermione, but they didn’t have to say so. They didn’t have to say a word, Iris could see it in their eyes when they looked at her._

_Iris spent every waking moment she could spare in the Hospital Wing. Before classes, she would race down and ask Madame Pomfrey if she needed any assistance in taking care of the petrified students. The witch had initially shooed Iris away but after Iris had returned the next morning, and the morning after that, Pomfrey had conceded and taught Iris how to prepare a few healing salves._

_After classes, she spent hours working on coursework at Hermione’s bedside. Ron and Harry would join her occasionally but were too distracted by their pursuit of the identity of the Heir of Slytherin to be much comfort._

_Iris had been working on a crossword puzzle from the Muggle newspaper her parents sent her every Sunday morning when the boys had visited the Hospital Wing and begged her to join them for dinner. Iris had given in but only because they had looked so pitiful._

_Harry was on her right downing a glass of pumpkin juice and Ron was seated across from her gnawing ravenously on fried chicken._

_Iris’ plate was empty._

_She looked around the table and observed her housemates._

_Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan were doubled over in laughter over Neville spilling half of his goblet of apple cider all over his sweater. Fred and George were planning their last prank of the school year on Slytherin with Lee Jordan. Lavender Brown was promising to teach Parvati how to Dutch braid when they got back to the common room._

_It all felt too **normal** for Iris who was overwhelmed by Hermione’s notable absence. _

_None of it felt right._

_Not when Hermione had escaped death by a glance._

_Not when the Heir of Slytherin’s monster was still on the loose._

_Not when Iris had this horrible inkling that the worst was yet to come._

_Iris stood suddenly from the table as her breathing shallowed._

_Her lungs were gasping for air but with every inhale she felt nothing but painful emptiness in her chest. The walls of the Great Hall were closing in on her and the suffocation she felt sent her anxiety skyrocketing._

_“Iris?” Harry exclaimed. He reached out a hand to steady her but she stepped out of his reach._

_“I-I-I just need some fr-fresh air.” Iris stumbled over her words as she made eye contact with Ron. The Weasley boy had mirrored Iris’ movement and jumped to his feet the same moment she had._

_Iris’ eyes flicked from Ron to Harry and back. “Don’t follow me, please.” She begged as she spun on her heel and ran out of the Great Hall. She pushed her way through the doors that led to the Clock Tower Courtyard and almost fell to her knees._

_Iris steadied herself on a pillar and cried out in relief at the smell of the night air._

_She closed her eyes as tears began slipping down her cheeks. She thought of the kindness in her mom’s smile and tried to recall the feeling of her dad embracing her tightly. It didn’t have the same calming effect when they weren’t right there in front of her._

_She regretted asking Harry and Ron not to follow her._

_“You’re having a panic attack and it’s okay. It’s okay to feel this way.” Iris repeated to herself but her breathing remained shallow.  
_

_“Sinclair?” She heard her last name being called out and when she spun around Draco Malfoy was standing only a few feet away._

_“No, no, no.” Iris managed. “P-please g-go away.”_

_Draco’s eyes widened in concern. An expression Iris never thought she’d see._

_“What are you doing standing here?” Draco asked as he came closer. “Follow me. Let’s go sit down.” He motioned towards the fountain situated in the middle of the courtyard and Iris’ feet moved of their own accord as they followed him down the steps._

_She collapsed near one of the four eagle statues built into the corners of the fountain and Draco sat closer to her than she would’ve expected. “Look at me.” Draco said and Iris glanced at him. She was aware that tears were still falling down her face and the embarrassment of feeling this raw in front of a boy that **hated her** made everything worse._

_“Sinclair, talk me about your parents.” Draco declared._

_“W-what? N-no.” Her throat felt too tight. "They're M-Muggles."_

_“Just do it.” Draco demanded. “What are their names?”_

_Iris stared at him briefly as she tried to but failed to get her breathing under control. “M-Martha a-and Peter.” She said._

_“What do they do for work?” Draco asked._

_“M-my mum t-teaches primary school and m-my dad is an electrician.” She inhaled deeply._

_“I’m not even going to ask what an electrician is.” Draco snorted. “What do they look like?”_

_“U-uh my mum has curly hair like me, but she keeps hers pretty short. She's so smart I'm convinced her brain is like five times bigger than the normal person's. I have her skin tone, but hers is a bit darker, and she has these big brown eyes.” Iris snorted at the memory that entered her thoughts. “My dad says they remind him of hot chocolate.”_

_“And your father?” Draco asked._

_“He’s s-short but strong. When he hugs me, I never want him to let go because I feel all my a-anxiety melt away. He has this ridiculous ginger hair that sticks up at all angles. He's Scottish so that's where I get my short temper from, I hope that doesn't offend the Scottish people as whole." Iris snorted again. "He’s white, like **white** white. He burns if he walks outside on a cloudy day.” Iris laughed and so did Draco. _

_The sound of Draco’s laugh drew Iris out of the trance she had lost herself in. Her tears had ceased and she had begun breathing properly again without realizing she was doing so._

_Draco Malfoy had just talked her through a panic attack._

_Iris tore her gaze from his and ran her fingers through the fountain water. For the first time, she noticed that the bottom of the fountain was completely devoid of coins. It seemed the Wizarding World didn’t believe in making wishes on coins and throwing them into watery depths._

_“I’ve watched owls leave droppings in that fountain you know.” Draco whispered._

_Iris removed her hand from the water with a jolt and returned her eyes to Draco’s. “Why did you follow me out here?”_

_“I didn’t follow you. I needed some fresh air and you just happened to be out here.” Draco stated. “It was pure coincidence. In any other circumstance I would’ve ran at the sight of you but I was-” Draco hesitated before finishing his thought. “I was worried.”_

_“Worried?” Iris said in disbelief._

_“Yes.”_

_“About?”_

_“You, obviously.” Draco groaned. “I’ve been worried about you.”_

_“You followed me out here because you've **been** worried about me?” Iris questioned. _

_“For the love of Merlin, I didn’t follow you out here. Don’t make me repeat myself.” Draco’s face curled in discomfort. “I’ve seen you rushing to the Hospital Wing to visit Granger every day and only someone going mad would want to spend all their time with petrified bodies and Madame Pomfrey.”_

_“Have you been watching me?” Iris exclaimed._

_“No.” Draco scoffed. I’m just a very observant person. I notice things.”_

_“You notice things.” Iris repeated._

_“Yes.” Draco declared._

_“And this isn’t because some small part of you cares about what’s happening to the Muggle-Borns?”_

_“No. I don’t care about the Mudbloods.” Draco’s lips curled and Iris flinched at the term but he didn't seem to notice. “I don’t care about you either if that’s what you’re getting at.”_

_“So, you’ve been watching me for days because you don’t care? And you talked me through a panic attack because you don’t care?” Iris scrutinized him. “Did I get that right?”_

_Draco opened and close his mouth. He was vividly frustrated._

_“How did you know what to do?” Iris asked cautiously._

_“What do you mean?”_

_“How did you know what to ask to get me through my panic attack? It’s not exactly common knowledge with people our age.”_

_Draco exhaled deeply before answering. “My mother.”_

_“She has panic attacks?”_

_“Yes.” Draco snapped. “And that’s all I’m saying.”_

_Iris held her hands in surrender-she wasn’t going to push._

_“You don’t get to do that you know?” Iris asked in an effort to drive the conversation in a different direction._

_“Don’t get to do what?”_

_“You don’t get to pick and choose which Muggle-Borns to treat with decency.” Iris declared. “You may have never called me a **Mudblood** , to my face, but you’ve tormented those that I care about and that’s the same as tormenting me.” _

_“I don’t care about your hurt feelings or the hurt feelings of your **friends**.” Draco narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re not special Sinclair. I just happen to tolerate your presence easier than that of Granger or Creevey.”_

_Iris scoffed. "You are infuriating."_

_“I know.” Draco declared._

_"You could be a good person, you know." Iris said._

_Draco shrugged his shoulders._

_Silence ensued before Iris swallowed her pride. “Thank you. . .for talking me through."_

_Draco met her eyes and nodded and then gazed upwards at the night sky._

_Iris followed his gaze and was amazed by the beauty of the stars._

_Iris’ parents lived on the outskirts of London so there was hardly ever a night that the stars weren’t covered by the smog. The night sky at Hogwarts, however, was decorated with light. The stars were numerous and Iris felt comforted in their presence._

_A few minutes of silence passed before Draco’s voice tore through the quiet._

_“You see that constellation to the left?” Draco asked and pointed towards a jumble of stars. Iris tried to follow the direction he was pointing towards but was unable to locate the constellation. Ron had tried to show her some constellations a few months back but her eyes just couldn’t latch onto them like others could._

_Iris squinted her eyes and Draco scooted closer at the sight of her difficulty. Their knees were almost touching when he arched an eyebrow and asked, “May I?”_

_Iris followed his line of sight to her hand resting on her knee. She wasn’t sure what otherworldly force possessed her to agree but, before she could comprehend the act, she nodded to give him permission._

_Draco grabbed her hand and_ _Iris flinched slightly at the contact. The feeling of Draco’s hand over hers was radically different to the times Ron and Harry had brushed their hands against hers in class by accident._

_Iris gulped as Draco raised her hand and directed her pointer finger towards the stars. The constellation he directed her towards was a line of eight stars that formed a looping tail. The tail ended in an arrangement of four stars that formed an uneven square._

_It almost looked like . . ._

_“It’s a dragon.” Draco stated. “It’s the Draco constellation. It’s my namesake.” Iris was surprised at the raw emotion evident on Draco’s face._ _“My mother’s side of the family is bit obsessed with naming their children astronomically. That’s why I tore Weasel to pieces last year when he laughed at my name.” Draco explained. “I’m proud to be my mother’s son. It felt disrespectful towards her."_

_“Oh.” Iris didn’t understand why he was telling her all of this. “What’s your mother’s name?”_

_“Narcissa.” He snorted. “She's named after the Greek god Narcissus. My aunt Bellatrix is named after the third brightest star in the Orion constellation. My aunt Andromeda is named after a constellation too but I’ve never met her.”_

_“Why have you never met her?” Iris asked._

_Draco hesitated before he answered. “She married a Mud-” Draco glanced at Iris. “She married a Muggle-Born and my grandparents disowned her.”_

_Iris’ heart sunk._

_There it was._

_That disgusting notion of blood superiority that followed every aspect of Draco’s life._

_Draco cleared his throat. “I can show you more constellations . . . if you’d like.”_

_Iris met Draco’s eyes and she was sure she saw worry there. Worry that she would say no? Worry that she would run off? She wasn’t sure._

_“Sure.” Iris agreed._

_Draco laid his hand over Iris’ again to direct her towards various constellations. The pair spent the next fifteen minutes that way, but it felt like only seconds had passed when Harry and Ron raced out into the Clocktower Courtyard looking for Iris._

_Draco dropped Iris’ hand immediately and Iris stood. “Hey guys.”_

_Harry's and Ron's eyes followed the sound of her voice and Ron’s jaw dropped when he noticed that Draco was mere inches from Iris. “What’s Malfoy doing out here?” Ron sneered as he narrowed his eyes at Draco. “Was he bothering you? I’ll pummel him.”_

_Draco opened his mouth to respond but Iris cleared her throat and Draco met her eyes instead._

_“That won’t be necessary.” Iris reassured Ron. Iris held Draco’s gaze for a brief moment and then tore her eyes from his._

_Iris walked away from Draco and nudged her way in-between Harry and Ron._

_“Did he say anything to you?” Harry asked. He narrowed his eyes at the Slytherin boy who had resumed his observation of the night sky. Iris followed Harry’s eyes and her heart squeezed at the way the moonlight played with Draco’s pale features._

_The feeling unnerved her._

_“No.” Iris smiled weakly. “We were just looking at the stars.”_

_I_ _ris swung one arm around Harry’s shoulders and the other around Ron’s and directed her boys back into the castle._

**September 12, 2000**

_Dear Iris,_

_Under different circumstances, I would be thrilled to have you stop by. I would be lying to myself, and you, if I didn’t express my concern at dredging up my family’s past. The Black family has always prided itself on privacy and old habits die hard even when you’ve been disowned._

_With that being said, I trust that you would not ask unless it was absolutely necessary._

_I would be glad to answer whatever questions you may have but I can’t promise to have the answers you’re seeking._

_Harry wrote to me recently and informed me of my nephew’s reappearance in your lives. Narcissa has purposefully kept me from Draco for twenty years, and while that first meeting is bound to be uncomfortable, I welcome the thought of him accompanying you._

_I also welcome the prospect of conversating with two adults. Don’t misunderstand me, I adore my grandson, but conversation with a toddler can only go so far. Teddy’s hair has ceased changing colour, but he has discovered his ability to shift his height._

_It makes placing the cookie jar out of his grasp near impossible._

_I apologize for the late notice but would Thursday afternoon work? Four o’clock for tea?_

_With love,_

_Andromeda Tonks_

Iris read Andromeda’s letter three times over as she ruminated over the best way to respond. She peered over at Draco from the top of the parchment. Today was his first day under her supervision and it had consisted entirely of mumbled conversations and hand motions. 

While Iris had opted to sit at her desk to read through her post, Draco was across the room perched on the edge of the sofa that faced the fireplace. He was hunched over and immersed in Hogwarts student records from the seventies.

The illumination from the flames gave him an almost angelic glow that made Iris’ stomach flip.

Iris had given Draco the task of writing down the name and House of every girl that was in the same year as Regulus. It was entirely possible that Dumbledore would’ve had the witch’s records scraped when she was put into hiding but Iris found small satisfaction in giving Draco such a menial task.

Iris cleared her throat to get his attention and Draco slowly redirected his gaze from the document in his hands towards Iris. “Yes, oh superior one?” He sneered.

“Watch it.” Iris warned and Draco’s eyes twinkled. “Your aunt is eager to meet you.” She waved the letter in her hands and the smirk fell from Draco’s face. “We’ll be Apparating to her house Thursday at four.”

“How wonderful. I’ll be meeting a disowned relative for the first time right after I visit my abusive father in Azkaban.” Draco narrowed his eyes at Iris and said sarcastically, “I can’t wait.”

“Look at it this way. You and Andromeda already have one thing in common.” Iris remarked. “You’re bound to get along.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” Draco arched an eyebrow.

Iris smirked. “You both have a thing for Muggle-Borns.”

Draco’s jaw dropped.

And then there was a knock at Iris’ office door.

It was near sunset as Iris and Hermione strolled down the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley arm in arm. The girls were supposed to meet Harry and Ron at The Dragon’s Tooth pub for drinks and were popping in and out of shops along the way.

“You were the one that jinxed Pansy?” Hermione exclaimed. “She was trapped in the lift for an hour! One hand was stuck in her hair and she pressed as many buttons as she could with her other until all of her fingers were stuck. A Curse-Breaker had to be called in to free her!”

“I may have played around with the Sticking Charm a bit.” Iris declared proudly. “I know it was petty but she deserved it after the stunt she pulled Friday night.” Iris curled her lips in annoyance. “I still can’t believe she locked me out on the balcony with Draco.”

Pansy had been the one to knock at Iris’ office door earlier that afternoon-the witch had dropped by to apologize for the role she had played during their _girls’ night_. Pansy had been surprised at the sight of Draco lounging on Iris’ sofa but Iris had been quick to explain that Draco was in her office by force and not from a _reconciliation_ that Pansy had tried to thrust upon them.

Pansy had groveled and Iris, more out of the desire to get the Slytherin out of her office, had let the witch leave believing that she and Iris were on good terms. However, out of pure petty impulse, Iris had cast a variation of the Sticking Charm on Pansy so that everything she touched would stick to her like superglue.

It wasn’t Iris’ fault Pansy didn’t manage to touch anything but her hair before she got into the lift.

“That was so childish.” Hermione scolded her and lightly slapped Iris’ arm.

“I just admitted it was petty.” Iris scoffed. “I thought that would earn some points with you at least.”

Hermione rolled her eyes.

“And where were you when I was locked outside?” Iris side-eyed Hermione. “Oh, that’s right you were too busy trying to get into Ron’s pants!”

Hermione gasped. “I was not!”

“Spare me!” Iris laughed. “You were looking at Ron the same way a Quidditch player looks at a new broomstick-like they want to ride it all night long.”

“Iris Sinclair!” Hermione unlinked her arm from Iris' and shoved Iris away from her. “I’ll have you know I practiced a severe amount of self-control that night. Ron threw himself at me once George went to bed and _I_ put a stop to it.”

“Only because you knew with all that alcohol in his system it would be a one and done situation.” Iris snickered.

“You’re incorrigible!” Hermione gasped. 

Hermione tried to give Iris the silent treatment but the moment they arrived outside Flourish and Blotts her effort was rendered futile.

“Oh, I think the newest biography on Ignatia Wildsmith is out!” She squealed. “I’ll be quick, wait right here!” Before Iris could protest, knowing just how dangerous it was to leave Hermione alone in a bookshop, her best friend bounded away.

Iris sighed as she leaned against the glass window of the bookshop.

She would give Hermione five minutes to ask the clerk and then she was going in after her.

Iris observed the crowd while she waited for Hermione to return. The Alley was less crowded than usual and Iris was thankful. Less people meant there was less of a chance for her and Hermione to be recognized and the last thing Iris wanted was a spot on the front page of The Prophet.

The shopkeeper of the Magical Menagerie across the street waved at Iris through the window and Iris smiled and waved back. Not a moment afterwards Iris noticed a particularly tall man with blond hair headed in her direction. A young woman had her arm looped through his on his right and a middle-aged woman walked closely on his left.

Draco was headed in her direction with Astoria and Narcissa in tow.

“Oh no, no, no, no.” Iris looked around the Alley for somewhere to bolt. If she crossed the street to the Magical Menagerie, she would be walking directly into their eyesight and Draco was bound to notice her. He had probably already spotted her, that man had the eyes of a hawk. 

Iris only had one option.

She rushed towards the entryway of Flourish and Blotts at the same moment Hermione exited the bookshop with a wrapped book in hand. The two witches collided with a harsh thud and Hermione shrieked in surprise. “Iris, what the hell?”

“No time to explain just go back inside.” Iris gently grabbed Hermione by the arm and tried to shove her back into the bookshop but the girl wouldn’t budge. “Draco with-we have to go-they're so close move it!” Iris begged.

“Draco what? What is wrong with you” Hermione asked aghast. “We’re going to be late meeting Harry and Ron.”

“Hermione. . .” Iris started to plead when a voice cut her off. 

Draco’s voice drawled from behind Iris. “Sinclair and Granger. What a coincidence.”

Hermione’s eyes went wide from realization.

Iris spun around on her heel to face Draco. . . and Astoria and Narcissa.

She smiled sheepishly at the group to stop her jaw from dropping at the _luxury_ displayed in front of her.

Narcissa’s honey blonde hair was curled to just below her chin and her lips were painted a crimson red. She was dressed in a cream wrap jacket and a string of pearls adorned her neck. Narcissa had paired the wrap jacket with a pair of white trousers and ivory stilettos.

Iris had never seen the woman in such light clothing before.

Astoria’s hair, the same color as Narcissa’s, hung nearly to her waist in loose waves. She was wearing a cropped pink suede jacket with a white turtleneck underneath. The turtleneck was tucked into a black and white gingham mini skirt, revealing her endlessly long legs, and her feet were adorned in black leather ankle boots.

Iris was instantly aware of the dark wash jeans and burgundy sweater she’d thrown on before meeting Hermione. Her hair was tied back in a bun, a few curls had escaped as was the norm, and she’d even switched from heels to trainers for the remainder of the day.

Iris regretted switching out of her heels as Narcissa and Astoria towered over her short stature. Standing in front of the fabulous women in Draco’s life made her feel ridiculously inadequate.

“Draco.” Hermione greeted him, looking every bit as startled as Iris. “Mrs. Black Malfoy.” Hermione nodded towards Narcissa and then focused on Astoria. “And you are?”

Hermione knew who Astoria was . . . she was just preparing herself for the Greengrass girl to be just as malicious as her older sister.

“Astoria Greengrass.” Astoria smiled brightly and extended her hand to Hermione whose eyes widened again in surprise. “I was only a year below you at Hogwarts but I was in Slytherin so our paths didn’t cross much. It’s so lovely to formally meet you.” 

Hermione side-eyed Iris while she shook Astoria’s hand. “Uh huh. It’s nice to meet you too.”

Astoria focused on Iris. “It's so nice to meet you too, Iris. To this day I am green with jealousy over that beautiful dress you wore to the Yule Ball. I remember my jaw dropping as I watched you walk into the Great Hall with Harry Potter.” Astoria sighed dreamily and extended her hand to Iris.

Iris glanced at Draco who was watching the exchange with amusement.

Narcissa was watching Iris with cold calculation.

It as if Draco’s mother was daring Iris to spit in the face of Astoria’s kindness.

Iris narrowed her eyes the slightest bit at Narcissa as she shook Astoria’s hand and then redirected her gaze back onto Astoria’s light blue eyes. “Thank you?” Iris said, unable to keep the confusion from her voice.

“Do you still have it?” Astoria asked.

Iris knit her eyebrows. “Still have what?”

“Do you still have the dress?”

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I do.” Iris answered. The dress was neatly folded into a box in the corner of her closet. “I could never fit into it now, of course, but I could never let it go.” Iris smiled weakly.

Iris felt Draco’s eyes on her. When she glanced at him the intensity of his gaze forced her a step backwards.

“We were just heading to dinner. Would the two of you like to join us?” Narcissa asked. Draco looked at his mother in confusion, but Astoria was all for the idea. “That would be wonderful!” The girl squealed and Iris watched as Astoria tightened her grip on Draco’s arm and leaned further into him.

 _I’m going to be sick._ She thought.

Hermione noticed the nauseous expression on Iris’ face and took charge. “I’m sorry, but we’re meeting Harry and Ron at The Dragon’s Tooth.” Hermione explained. "Our presence was _demanded_." Hermione laughed weakly trying to lighten the mood. 

“Another time then.” Narcissa feigned disappointment but Iris saw the relief in her eyes. Was she relieved that she wouldn’t be photographed with two Muggle-Borns? Or was it only Iris she had the issue with?

Narcissa met Iris’ eyes again and it felt as if the woman was scrutinizing every inch of her. Iris was now convinced that Narcissa’s issue was, in fact, with her. “Darling, we should get going or we’re going to be late for our reservation.” Narcissa laid a hand gently on Draco.

“You’re right. We should let Iris and Hermione get to their _pub night_.” Draco interlocked his fingers with the hand Astoria was using to grip his arm. Iris’ eyes glanced towards their interwoven hands and when she looked back up Draco was staring at her with a smirk plastered on his face.

It was well past the time to go.

Iris linked her arm with Hermione’s once again. “Have a lovely evening.” Iris said through her teeth as she started to drag her best friend in the opposite direction.

“Miss Granger, Miss Sinclair. As always, it was a pleasure.” Narcissa waved to the pair of retreating witches.

“Goodbye!” Hermione managed to blurt out while trying to keep up with Iris' pace.

“Enjoy the pub!” Astoria waved.

“I’ll see you at _home_ , SInclair!" Draco shouted and Iris couldn't help but look over her shoulder at the sound of his voice. "Don't wait up.” He winked once they met eyes. 

He smirked at the look of disgust that crossed her face and then tore his gaze from hers.

"Cocky bastard." Iris mumbled as she burned her eyes into the back of his blond head.

She needed a pint desperately. 

_“Don't wait up!”_ Iris mocked as she took down another shot of Firewhiskey. “No I won’t. In fact, I’m going to twist the charm on the front door so no one with _Malfoy blood_ can enter and he has to sleep on the stoop.”

“Uh, I hate to break it to you, but only I have power over that charm.” Harry pointed out as he sipped on his pint. “Being _Lord of the Townhome_ and all that.” He grinned and Ron snorted from beside him.

Iris didn’t acknowledge a word that left Harry’s mouth as she continued her rant.

“Why was she so _fucking_ nice?” Iris groaned as she grabbed her pint and emptied what little was left. “No one can be that beautiful, that nice, and a Slytherin.”

“You sound ridiculous.” Hermione laughed and Iris kicked her under the table.

“I heard from Ginny that Astoria was one of the few sixth-year Slytherins that stood up against the Carrow siblings.” Ron chimed in and Iris narrowed her eyes at him.

“Great so she’s also a _hero_.” Iris hiccupped and waved her finger in the air to signal to the barkeep that she needed a refill. “Draco doesn’t deserve her.” She declared as the barkeep waved her wand and refilled Iris’ empty glass. 

“And why is that? Dare I say is someone feeling jealous?” Harry smirked over the rim of his glass.

“Harry James you stop while you’re ahead.” Iris growled before taking a swig from her pint and Harry chuckled.

“So, ‘Mione, what trouble are we getting up to for your birthday?” Ron asked genuinely but also out of a desire to deter the conversation away from _Draco Malfoy._

“No _trouble_. I just want to have small get-together at my flat Friday night.” Hermione grinned. “I want you three there, _obviously_ , Ginny, George, Neville, Luna, maybe Cormac McLaggen if I’m feeling frisky.”

Ron choked on his beer and Harry had to pound on Ron’s back as he tried to regain his ability to breathe.

“That wasn’t funny.” Ron snarled.

“I thought it was hilarious.” Iris snickered and Hermione clanged her pint with Iris’ in gratitude.

“Listen up you lot.” Harry slammed his now empty pint down on the table to get their attention. “I’ve got something to share with you.”

Ron and Iris exchanged worried glances.

“I knew you were up to something, Harry Potter.” Hermione remarked.

Harry chuckled as he retrieved a velvet box from the left pocket of his jacket. He placed the box on the table and snapped open the top to reveal one of the most beautiful rings Iris had ever laid her eyes on. A pear cut emerald, surrounded by a sparkling halo of diamonds, rested upon a gold band.

Iris' jaw dropped. 

Hermione gasped and covered her hand with her mouth.

“Harry . . . I don’t know what to say . . .” Ron began. He grabbed the box off the table and held the ring up to the light to examine it. “The band is much too small, we’ll have to get it resized, but yes! Yes, Harry I will marry you!” Ron beamed and Hermione snorted from across the table.

“Don’t ruin the moment you git!” Iris laughed and punched Ron in the arm.

Harry snatched the box from Ron’s hands. “I’m sorry Ron but I had this made with a different Weasley in mind.” Harry laughed. “I'm going to ask Ginny to marry me.”

Iris squealed. “She is going to _freak out_ when she sees that honker.”

“Freak out? In a good way? Or bad? Do you think she’ll say yes?” Harry questioned.

“Are you kidding?” Hermione exclaimed. “She’s been in love with you since she was ten years old! Of course, she’s going to say yes!”

“I know, it’s just a relief to hear you that.” Harry sighed. “Molly and Arthur said the same thing when I asked for their permission.”

“Mum and dad knew before me?” Ron scoffed. “That’s just not right.”

“Oh Ronald drink your pint and shut it.” Hermione warned.

Ron narrowed his eyes at Hermione and chugged the rest of the beer in the glass.

“When are you going to ask her?” Iris asked Harry.

“Well, I was planning on doing it on Halloween before Ron and George’s party.” Harry said cautiously. “For years that day has only been a reminder of the sacrifice my mum and dad made. By proposing to Gin on Halloween, I’m sort of _transforming_ the meaning of the day from the end of a life together to the beginning of one." Harry smiled weakly. "It's corny I know.”

"No it's not corny at all." Hermione declared. “I think it's a wonderful idea.”

Iris agreed and reached across the table to squeeze Harry’s hand. “Your parents would be so proud.”

Ron laid a hand on Harry’s shoulder in solidarity.

Harry grinned at his friends and then glanced down at the ring in his hands.

The raw emotion Iris saw in his eyes squeezed at her heartstrings.

“Not to get too ahead of ourselves but I’m definitely the Best Man right?” Ron leaned forward.

“No. I’m the Best _Woman._ ” Iris challenged Ron.

“Absolutely not! You’ll be a bridesmaid.” Ron narrowed his eyes at her.

“I’m mates with a misogynist!” Iris gasped. 

“Hey what about me? I’m in the running just as much as the two of you!” Hermione threw her hands in the air and chaos descended. 

Iris, Ron, and Hermione spent the next half an hour arguing over who was going to be the most important of Harry’s groomsmen, _or groomswomen_ , and Harry could do nothing but watch in adoration. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the longer gap between updates! It's been a bit of a busy week. 
> 
> As you may have already perceived from this chapter, Astoria is not going to be taking on the role of an antagonist. I don't enjoy when she's written as bitter or cruel and I wanted to give a fresh take on her. Narcissa is also not going to be boxed into a stereotype, we're going to see many sides of her as I find her to be a very interesting character. 
> 
> Next chapter Iris and Draco visit Lucius and Andromeda. Much love xo.


	12. The Dark Mark

**September 14, 2000**

“Sinclair.”

Iris groaned at whoever was trying to wake her.

“Sinclair.” The voice sounded annoyed at her refusal, but Iris rolled over and drowned it out with a pillow over her head.

“Iris, if you don’t get out of that bed, I will drag you out myself.”

Iris removed the pillow from her face and was startled by the sight of Draco Malfoy standing at the foot of her bed.

“You can’t be in here!” Iris screeched as she gathered the duvet around herself. “Honestly, why is it so difficult for you to understand the concept of boundaries?”

Iris had worn an over-sized tee shirt to bed, a shirt that provided more than enough coverage, but being this close to Draco while wearing such a thin layer made her stomach flip.

“Am I still supposed to be abiding by those rules of yours? I’ve broken at least half of them already.” Draco frowned as his examined her room.

“You signed the parchment so, yes, for the love of Merlin learn how to follow them.” Iris demanded.

Draco’s eyes narrowed as they returned to Iris. “Is that really necessary?” He motioned towards the duvet she was using to cover her chest. “Or have you forgotten that I spent the better part of Sixth year feeling you up?”

“GET OUT!” Iris huffed in annoyance and she chucked a pillow at the smirk on Draco’s face.

Draco sidestepped the pillow with ease and grinned at her attempted assault. “I wouldn’t have needed to barge in here in the first place if you were able to keep track of time.” Draco tapped the watch on his wrist. “We have to be at the Azkaban docks in an hour.”

Iris and Draco were visiting Lucius Malfoy this afternoon and then having tea with Andromeda Tonks not long after. Neither Iris nor Draco had been required to come to the office because of their busy schedule so Iris had seized the opportunity to get a couple more hours of shut eye.

Iris knit her eyebrows in confusion. “There’s no way. I set an alarm for 9.”

Draco followed her eyes as she glanced at the clock on her bedside table.

The hands of the clock read _11:05AM._

“What?” Iris exclaimed. She reached over and grabbed the clock, and when she pressed the button to check the status of her alarm, she saw that she had set it for _9:00PM_ instead of _9:00AM_.

“Oh, fuck me.” Iris groaned as she fell backwards into her pillows.

“I almost did Sixth year.” Draco stated matter-of-factly.

Iris’ jaw dropped and she bolted from her bed. “YOU, OUT!” She demanded as she placed her hands on his back and shoved him towards her bedroom door. Draco chuckled as he knew she was using every ounce of her upper body strength to move him.

With one final shove, he was out in the hallway.

Draco trailed his eyes up and down her body. “Nice knickers. Slytherin green suits you.” He winked.

Iris gasped and glanced downwards.

She tugged at the bottom of her shirt as she was, in fact, not wearing the joggers that she had gone to sleep in. She had a habit of kicking them off in the middle of the night when she got too hot.

“I sure hope barging into my bedroom was worth it.” Iris exclaimed as she released her shirt, once again revealing her knickers. “Because this is the last time you’ll ever have the pleasure of seeing me half-naked.”

And then she slammed the door in Draco’s face.

Ocean waves slammed harshly against the side of the boat as Iris and Draco were steered towards Azkaban. The visitor’s boat was an old sailing boat that fit a measly five people at maximum. An Auror stood at the far end and directed the boat towards the island with his wand.

Iris and Draco were seated right next to one another and the press of his thigh against hers did unspeakable things to her thoughts. Despite how hard she tried to reject the feeling, she was still attracted to him. 

Iris risked a glance at Draco as he stared at the faraway prison with unreadable eyes.

The dark ensemble Draco was dressed in, an array of black from his blazer to his loafers, was stark against his pale skin and light hair. Iris noticed that he had left the first two buttons of his dress shirt undone and her cheeks warmed at the sight.

“If you have something to say, then say it.” Draco declared as he glanced towards her. 

“I-” Iris stuttered. “I don’t. I was just-” Iris was caught off by the amusement present on Draco’s face. “I was just looking at you.” She sighed in admission.

“You do that a lot, you know.” Draco smirked.

“I know, but as a young wizard once said, _I’m just a very observant person_.” Iris imitated Draco’s voice before it had matured and he rolled his eyes.

“You look nice.” Draco declared. “I like your hair down.”

“Oh, uh, thank you? You do too.”

Iris had changed clothes a total of five times before settling on a plum scoop-neck top, a cropped black blazer, and a pair of plaid grey and white trousers that cinched at her waist. She had also thrown on a pair of her highest black heels as she refused to feel small in front of Lucius Malfoy.

Her black curls hung loose past her chest and at her throat was the familiar hawk pendant.

“Oh, _I know_ I look good.” Draco sneered. “I just wanted to hear you admit that you thought so as well.”

Iris kicked him in the shin. 

Draco’s cheeky demeanor disappeared the moment he and Iris were escorted into the darkness of Azkaban.

The Aurors that stood guard on the ground floor took Iris and Draco’s wands into custody and then roamed their eyes over the various Ministry documents Iris had been required to bring with her. The papers included proof that Iris and Draco were in fact who they claimed to be as well as a letter from Kingsley that granted Iris the clearance to visit Lucius alongside Draco.

The lack of Dementors was the only relief Iris could find.

Dementors had been banished from Azkaban for over two years. The Auror Department had assumed the duty of guarding the prisoners in the place of the cloaked creatures, but a cloud of despair still hung heavily over the building.

The ground floor of the prison greeted its visitors with a seemingly never-ending stairwell that curled upwards towards the upper floors. In the midst of the transfer from Dementor to Auror guards, Kingsley must have forgotten to sign off on the inclusion of lifts within the prison. 

“Follow me.” An Auror Iris recognized as Talbott Winger motioned for her and Draco to join him on his trek up the stairs.

Iris took one step upward and immediately regretted wearing heels.

By the time Iris and Draco reached the top of the stairs, they were panting and sweating profusely. Auror Winger, however, wasn’t fazed. “A little out of shape, are you?” Talbott snickered and Iris nodded her head in exasperation as she inhaled and exhaled deeply.

After they regained their breath, Draco and Iris were led down a corridor lit only by the sconces on the walls. Iris and Draco passed torch after torch until Auror Winger stopped at the very end of the corridor in front of a blank expanse of obsidian wall.

“This is your father’s cell.” Auror Winger glanced at Draco as he motioned towards the blank wall.

Iris and Draco’s matching looks of confusion drew a chuckle out of the Auror.

“It’s enchanted similarly to the archway at King’s Cross. Your father can’t see or hear anyone unless an Auror brings the enchantment down. We’re working on transitioning every cell in the fortress similarly but we’ve only just begun with the high-security floor. There is a barrier in place, with or without the enchantment, that prevents him from leaving his cell as well as prevents visitors from entering.”

“Fancy.” Iris commented. “I was prepared for thick metal bars and a bucket.”

“Sinclair, I swear-” Draco began but he abruptly cut himself short and clenched his teeth tightly.

“You swear what?” Iris arched an eyebrow.

“I-” Draco stammered. “Fuck.” He snarled and Iris watched as he clutched his left forearm.

“Draco?” Iris flicked her eyes from the growing look of discomfort on Draco’s face to the tight grip of his hand on his arm.

“Are you ready for me to remove the enchantment?” Auror Winger asked cautiously.

“Can we have a-a minute?” Draco demanded rather than requested of Auror Winger.

“What? Why?” Iris asked but Draco was too busy removing his blazer to answer her.

At Draco’s blatant discomfort, Iris met Auror Winger’s eyes and concurred with Draco’s demand for a few minutes of privacy. The Auror nodded his head and preceded to walk down the other end of the corridor.

As soon as Auror Winger’s back was turned, Draco let his blazer fall to the ground and doubled over in a howl of pain that he muffled with his fist against his mouth. He fell backwards against the wall opposite Lucius’ cell and struggled to unbutton the sleeve of his dress shirt.

“Draco, what’s happening?” Iris tried to remain calm but the panic in her voice was evident.

Draco clenched his teeth. “It-it’s the Mark.”

Iris crouched on the ground in front of him and unbuttoned the sleeve of his left forearm.

Before her eyes, the serpent of the Dark Mark unraveled from the skull and twisted itself around Draco’s arm. Iris stifled a gasp as it squeezed and the veins in Draco’s arm popped as he groaned in pain.

The serpent would return to the skull for a brief moment before repeating the cycle.

“Why is this happening?” Iris exclaimed as she went down on her knees and scooted closer to Draco.

“It’s a farewell p-present from the Dark Lord.” Draco laughed dryly as beads of sweat poured down his face. “Voldemort cursed the Dark Mark before the Battle of Hogwarts to remind the Death Eaters left behind of their failure to him if he was defeated.” Draco squeezed his eyes. “This happens whenever two Death Eaters with the Mark get too close to one another. I can guarantee my father is experiencing the same pain on the other side of that enchantment.”

“How can I stop it?” Iris pleaded. “Tell me what I can do to help you.”

“There isn’t anything you can do.” Draco said before letting a muffled cry escape as the serpent squeezed its body around his arm once more. “I have to wait it out, but it will pass.” Draco declared, out of breath once the serpent returned to the skull.

“Did you know this was going to happen? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It happens at random, whenever the Mark wills it. It’s only happened once before when I was still imprisoned. A few Aurors walked Dolohov past my cell, it wasn't _fancy_ like my father's, so I could easily see and hear through the thick metal bars. All the Aurors could do was watch as we rolled around on the ground like wounded dogs.” Draco shook his head. “I couldn’t be sure it would happen today so that’s why I didn’t mention it.”

“I would’ve never let you come here if I’d known this could happen.” Iris’ voice quivered. 

“Oh, I know, that’s why I didn’t tell you.” Draco chuckled as the veins in his neck protruded. “Will y-you hold my right hand? Being able to redirect some of the pressure onto someone else might help.”

“Yes, yeah, of course.” Iris stumbled over her words as she laced her fingers with Draco’s. As soon as their hands were intertwined, another wave of pain coursed through his body. He cried out softly and squeezed Iris’ hand so tightly she felt like the bones in hand we’re going to break.

Once the pain passed, she reached forward with her free hand and tucked the hair that had fallen into Draco’s face behind his ear. She didn’t realize how intimate of gesture it was until their eyes met and the confusion in Draco’s grey gaze stole the air from her lungs.

“Talk.” Draco hissed. “Talk about something, anything.”

Iris’ eyes widened. “Oh alright, uh-” She thought hard as she searched for a topic that could distract Draco from the pain.

A lightbulb went off in her head.

“You know when Tracey Davis spread that rumor that you kissed her after Potions?” Iris began. “Not even a week after you left a hickey on my-” She pointed at the exact spot on her neck with her free hand.

“I-Iris I remember.” Draco choked out. “What’s your point?”

The pain returned and Iris waited until Draco’s bone-shattering squeeze of her hand had ceased before continuing. “ _Well_ , do you remember, during the Hufflepuff versus Slytherin match that weekend, how your broom kept trying to buck you off?”

“Yeah, I almost fell off nearly every fifteen minutes. I swear that’s why we lost. . .” Draco lost his train of thought and his eyes widened at the guilt on Iris’ face. “IT WAS YOU?” Draco shouted as the serpent unraveled and squeezed once more.

Iris swore he managed to squeeze her hand harder that time around.

“I thought you were playing me!” Iris defended herself. "I was humiliated!" 

“I could have died!” Draco shouted.

“But you didn’t?” She smiled sheepishly.

Draco narrowed his eyes at her. “And so now I’m supposed to believe that when Tracey’s cauldron exploded in Potions on Monday that that was merely coincidental?”

Iris gulped. “Maybe we should save this conversation for a later time.”

“I think so.” Draco agreed.

The pair sat in silence for the next few minutes as the Dark Mark resumed its assault on Draco’s arm. Draco’s hair fell into his face again, but Iris resisted the urge to tuck back behind his ear.

She instead focused on the serpent as it unraveled, squeezed, reformed, unraveled, squeezed, and reformed.

Iris knew the pain was beginning to fade when the pressure from Draco’s hand clasped in hers lessened. Iris watched as the serpent squeezed for the last time and then resumed its original position twisted within the skull as if it had never moved at all.

Draco exhaled as if it was his first time breathing in hours.

“Thank Merlin, that’s over.” Iris sighed in relief as she released Draco’s hand.

“What? Were you worried?” Draco quirked one side of his mouth.

Iris laughed weakly. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” Draco exhaled heavily and the intensity in his voice drew Iris’ eyes to his.

Iris’ heart squeezed at the sight of his bloodshot eyes and the heavy blush that spread up from his neck.

“No, I don’t.” Iris said. “And that’s part of the problem.”

"It always has been." Draco sighed and hung his head in exhaustion.

Iris reached behind her and retrieved Draco’s blazer. She stood and gently laid the jacket around Draco’s shoulders before shaking off the dirt stuck to it. After giving Draco a couple minutes to breathe, Iris waved towards Auror Winger who was waiting for the pair at the other end of the corridor.

Draco slowly got up off the ground and joined Iris. “Keep this between us.” He requested as he buttoned the sleeves of his dress shirt. “Don’t tell Potter, Granger, or the Weasel. My mother doesn’t know, and I don’t want her to worry.”

“I won’t.” Iris assured him. “But you need to meet with a Curse-Breaker. They might be able to help.”

Draco shrugged his blazer back on. “Let’s catch Greyback. After that, then maybe I’ll get into contact with one of those glorified archaeologists and see what the oaf has to say.”

At the same moment, Auror Winger rejoined her and Draco.

“Ready, now?” Auror Winger arched an impatient brow.

“Yes, let’s get this over with.” Draco declared. “Let me handle this.” He side-eyed Iris. “Don’t say a word unless it is absolutely necessary. He’ll be trying his hardest to get a reaction out of you.”

“ _Practice restraint_.” Iris rolled her eyes as she readjusted her blazer. “Don’t fret, I remember the way you spat those two words at me outside Kingsley’s office.”

Draco glanced at her to respond but before the words could leave his mouth, Auror Winger let down the enchantment and Draco was rendered speechless. 

Lucius Malfoy’s cell was the epitome of Pureblood privilege.

There was only so much one could do to make a cell in Azkaban feel luxurious, but Lucius had used each and every one of his connections to make that happen. The cell itself was the size of one of the guest bedrooms at Grimmauld Place. In the corner of the cell was a queen-sized bed on an actual _wooden_ frame. Next to the bed was a bedside table and a half-full bookcase. Across the room was a desk fitted with a lit lantern, a quill and inkpot, and rolls of parchment.

Lucius was seated in front of the desk. He was dressed in the striped uniform of Azkaban prisoners and his platinum blond hair was tied back with a twine of string. He was writing on a roll of parchment when Auror Winger removed the enchantment on the cell.

The removal of the enchantment caught Lucius’ eye and an amused sneer appeared on the Death Eater’s face at the sight of his son.

“Come to visit dear old Dad, have you?” Lucius teased and Iris noticed the slightest twitch of Draco’s fingers.

“You look considerably _stable_.” Draco gripped his left forearm and Lucius’ eyes focused on the movement. Iris watched as the realization of Draco’s inference became clear to the elder Malfoy and Lucius laughed in response.

“A _little_ pain reminds me that I am still among the living. Are you finding it difficult to handle, Draco?” Lucius mocked. “I tried to convince the Dark Lord that you weren’t worthy of the Mark but alas, here we are.”

"The Dark Lord never did consider your counsel the wisest, did he?" Draco bit back at his father. 

Lucius narrowed his eyes at his son and stood. He held his hands behind his back as he moved closer towards the barrier and his eyes flitted from Auror Winger, to Draco, and settled on Iris. When Lucius’ eyes widened in recognition, Iris’ felt nauseous at the pleasure that crossed his face.

“ _Iris Sinclair_.” Lucius said with wonder. “You’re _still_ clinging to my son like the parasite you are? After all these years? After everything he _did?_ ” Lucius sneered.

Iris refused to respond but if looks could kill Lucius Malfoy would've been on the floor.

“ _Father_.” Draco exclaimed. “This is not a personal visit. We are here by request of the Minister of Magic. The Ministry demands information that you possess that could lead to the apprehension of one of your former comrades.”

“Oh, is that so?” Lucius sneered with his eyes still locked on Iris.

“Look at me.” Draco snarled and Lucius’ gaze moved slowly from Iris to the eyes of his son. “We need the location of every hideout used by the Death Eaters during the First and Second Wizarding Wars.”

Lucius cackled. It was a mad, crazed sound that sent chills down Iris’ spine.

“What? _Your_ inside intel isn’t good enough? Is that it?” Lucius smirked at his son. “I assumed the Ministry must’ve rounded all my old _friends_ up by now.”

“The one we are looking for was not a _friend_.” Draco declared.

“Ah, you’re looking for Fenrir.” Lucius’ eyes twinkled as he paced up and down the barrier. “He up to his old tricks again, is he?”

“If by tricks you mean maiming and infecting helpless children.” Draco spat.

“Well, we all have our vices, don’t we?” Lucius stated nonchalantly. “I, for one, quite enjoy reading about war strategy and combat. And you, my son, find your pleasure in the company of _Mudbloods_.” Lucius spat in Iris’ direction and she instinctively took a step back.

Draco’s hand reflexively reached out to stabilize her and he laid it on the small of her back. Iris flinched at his touch and side-stepped out of it and Draco returned his arm to his side with a snap.

Lucius watched the exchange with interest but surprisingly didn’t comment on the reaction he had spurred. “The Ministry wants my help in capturing Fenrir? They know my terms. I want out of this god forsaken hellhole.” Lucius declared. “Or . . .” The elder Malfoy smirked as an idea crossed his mind. “Tell your mother I want _conjugal visits_.”

Draco sprang forward at his father’s words and the only thing separating father and son was the magical barrier between them. “You will never see her again, you understand me? The divorce will be finalized and then she will be rid of you.”

“She may be rid of me, but you never will be, _my boy_.” Lucius sneered. “You are a Malfoy. My blood runs in your veins and you must live with that until the day you die.”

Silence ensued as Draco and Lucius stared at one another and the air in the corridor grew thicker by the second. Draco was taller than his father by a small margin but somehow Lucius still managed to look down on his son with disgust.

“We’re done here.” Draco declared. “This was as pointless as I assumed it would be.”

Draco tore his eyes from his father’s and spun on his heel. He placed a hand on Iris’ shoulder to guide her away from Lucius, but she shrugged him off. Draco sent her a look of warning, but she held up a hand to indicate that she wasn’t to be stopped.

Iris positioned herself where Draco had been standing in front the barrier and Lucius’ eyebrows raised in curiosity.

"My, my, my. The lioness comes to play." He taunted her. 

Iris spoke softly so only Lucius could hear. “One day, I will kill you.” She declared. “It could be tomorrow, it could be months from now, or it could be years until I get the chance. But one day, I will, and you will suffer, and the last thing you will see is the face of a Muggle-Born that bested you at every turn.”

"An empty threat from a filthy, Mud-" Lucius began but was cut short by Auror Winger restoring the enchantment on the cell.

Lucius disappeared from their view and Iris was face to face with a blank wall in his absence.

“And just like that _, silence_.” Auror Winger cheered. “I apologize for the abrupt end but the conversation seemed to be taking a turn and I can only handle that fool’s hatred for so long.” He explained as Iris spun around to face him and Draco.

Draco’s gaze was locked upwards on the ceiling.

“You wouldn’t happen to have bottle of scotch hidden in your robes?” Iris asked Auror Winger.

“Unfortunately, I do not, but let me guide you out of here and the two of you can find a pub in Diagon Alley to get sloshed in.” Auror Winger made a move ahead but Iris stopped him with a gentle touch on the shoulder.

“ _Talbott_.” Iris crooned. “Before you show us out, I do have a small request . . .”

“The cell hasn’t been touched since his escape. It should be just as it was seven years ago.” Auror Winger motioned Iris and Draco towards a cell on the fifth floor on the fortress.

As Auror Winger had explained, the renovations of the fortress had not yet reached past the high security floor and thus Iris was presented with a thickly barred cell that could only be entered through a metal door. From where she was standing, Iris noticed that the cell was half the size of Lucius’ and that, instead of a bed, there was a slab of stone situated in a corner.

Auror Winger waved his wand and the click of the metal door unlocking resounded throughout the corridor.

"Not even my cell was this pitiful." Draco remarked.

"I imagine your mother pulled some strings." Iris exhaled. “I want go in alone. Stay here.” She requested and Draco nodded.

Iris’ throat tightened as she pushed downward on the door handle and stepped forward into Sirius Black’s old cell.

While Lucius had been gifted every luxury available to a prisoner of Azkaban, Sirius had received no such thing. There was a window above the stone slab of a bed, but it was deliberately small enough to tease the occupant of the outside world without giving them an actual view. Chains were bolted into the wall closest to the door-Iris could only imagine what kind of torture Sirius had endured at the hands of the Dementors. 

Yellowed and ripped copies of the Daily Prophet were scattered across the ground. Iris bent over and picked up the exact issue of the paper that featured the Weasley family’s trip to Egypt. Her eyes were directed immediately towards Peter Pettigrew, the rat was front and center on Ron’s shoulder.

Iris sighed and let the paper float back towards the ground. Scratches on the wall close to the stone slab caught her eye and she kneeled on the slab and traced her fingers along what was undoubtedly twelve years worth of tally marks scratched into the wall.

More scratchings under the window caught Iris’ eye and she stood on the slab to get a closer look.

Her hand flew to her mouth in despair.

They were names.

Iris' eyes welled with tears as she ran her fingers along the looped letters of the names scratched into the wall.

_James. Lily. Harry. Remus. Marlene. Regulus._

Over and over and over and over Sirius scratched the names of those he loved the most. 

Iris inhaled and exhaled deeply, trying her best to steel her emotions before returning to Draco and Auror Winger.

When she exited the cell, she left Draco behind and pushed past Auror Winger. 

“I’ve seen enough." Iris shouted over her shoulder as tears streamed down her face. "Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo the Lucius visit ended up being its own chapter and so will tea with Andromeda. The combined visits together ended up being waaaaaay too long of a chapter and I wanted to give each its own moment to shine.
> 
> I can't believe how close this story is to 1,000 reads! I'm so thankful for every single one of you that keeps coming back chapter after chapter-it means the world to me. I'm almost finished with exams for the semester so updates should be coming more frequently. 
> 
> Chapter twelve should be up in a few days! Much love xo.


	13. Locomotor Mortis

**September 14, 2000**

The magical wards that surrounded Andromeda Tonks’ cottage prevented Iris and Draco from Apparating directly outside the witch’s front door. To remedy the issue, the pair Apparated as close to the cottage as the wards would allow and decided upon walking the rest of the way.

Draco had shed his blazer as the sun beat down upon them, the jacket draped over his arms as result. Iris followed close behind, her heels sinking into the soft dirt as they labored alongside the road. She was inwardly cursing herself for not switching to more comfortable pair of shoes when she and Draco briefly stopped by the townhome after their visit to Azkaban.

Iris’ heel caught on a rock and she yelped as she threw her arms out to her side to steady herself. The last thing she needed right now was to fall face first into a pile of dirt and pebbles in front of Draco. 

Draco chuckled at the sound of her distress and yelled over his shoulder, “If we had just _flown_ here, you wouldn’t have been in danger of spraining your ankle.”

“Oh, will you let it go?” Iris groaned. He had suggested earlier that they could fly to the edge of the wards to skip the half mile trek, but she had refused. “You know I hate sharing a broom and the way you fly makes me nauseous. It’s like you’re trying outrun the speed of light itself.”

 _“_ If you had your own broom we wouldn’t have needed to share.” Draco spun around to face her. “And there is _nothing_ wrong with the way I fly, I was trained by the head coach of the Wigtown Wanderers as a child.”

“Oh, well now that I’m aware of that _ridiculous_ piece of information, I apologize sincerely.” Iris dramatically placed her hand over her heart.

He rolled his eyes at the sarcasm in her tone and spun back around, continuing on ahead of her.

“I haven’t flown since your aunt blew my broom to bits.” Iris revealed, picking up her pace so she was now walking at Draco’s side. “Forgive me if holding onto you for dear life isn’t what I pictured for my first time back in the air.” 

“Oh, so you’re afraid of having your arms wrapped me?” Draco smirked.

Iris threw her hands in the air. “That is what you took from that? _Seriously?_ ”

He chuckled at her outburst and then asked, “It’s been years, what’s stopping you from buying a new broom?”

“I-” She hesitated. “I don’t know.”

Draco glanced at her for further explanation, but Iris didn’t have one. She missed flying, she missed the feelings of bliss and freedom that used to rise within her as she became one with the clouds.

But that felt like another lifetime.

Bellatrix Lestrange had turned Iris’ broom into splinters during the flight from Little Whinging-the night that she and the rest of the Order were ambushed by Voldemort and nearly thirty Death Eaters as they tried to covertly move Harry from one safe house to the next.

Iris had been sharing her broom with Nymphadora that night and, as Bellatrix had been intent on murdering her niece, that had made Iris the witch’s target as well. A misaimed Killing Curse born from Bellatrix’s wand had hit the tail end of Iris’ broom and the wood had exploded. Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour were flying on a Thestral close by and were able to scoop Iris and Tonks up as they catapulted through the air.

If not for Bill and Fleur, Iris and Tonks could’ve died that night.

The loss of her broom, a gift from Remus Lupin during her Third year at Hogwarts, paled in comparison to the friends she lost later that year, but it was still a sore spot.

That was the last time she had been in the air . . . if one didn’t count the escape from Gringotts on the back of a dragon with Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

“Speaking of women with their arms wrapped around you, how’s Astoria?” Iris smirked, desperate to turn the conversation in a different direction.

Draco narrowed his eyes at her in amusement. She knew he was aware that this was her attempt at changing the subject, but he played along willingly. “Astoria is lovely, if you must know.”

“And she’s your . . .” She side-eyed him. “Girlfriend? _Betrothed?_ ”

“She’s my friend.” He clarified.

“Oh, so, as your _friend_ , she doesn’t mind that you work, and live with, your. . .” Iris knit her eyebrows in confusion, she and Draco had never labeled their past _relationship_. “Whatever we were.”

“No, as my _friend_ , it doesn’t bother to have her that I work with my. . . _Whatever we were_.” He smirked. “Why the interest? Should it bother her?”

Iris narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t be ridiculous, I was just curious.” She stopped walking so Draco would continue on ahead of her and so she could return to the comfortable distance that had separated them earlier.

“Curious? Hmm, alright, if that’s what you want to call it.” He shouted without sparing a moment to look over his shoulder at her.

“Excuse me?” She exclaimed.

“I’m saying if that’s the term you want to use to hide your _jealousy_ than that’s fine with me.” 

Iris’ jaw dropped and the pure smug in his voice led to what happened next.

In one swift motion, she removed one of her heels and threw it in Draco’s direction. She watched as it soared through the air and slammed into the back of his head.

Iris removed her other heel, now barefoot on the dirt road, and prepared to use it to defend herself as he whirled around in anger.

“What the fuck, Sinclair?!” He shouted as rubbed the back of his head and took a step towards her.

“Take another step and I’ll aim this one lower.” She waved her heel in the air. “ _Much_ lower.”

“You throw that shoe, and you’ll regret it.” He growled as he shrugged his blazer back on.

“Oh, is that so?” Iris narrowed her eyes.

“Try me.” Draco said.

The heel went flying.

Draco, prepared for the second attack of footwear, caught Iris’ second heel with ease as it neared his lower region. However, what Iris had failed to notice, was that the second the heel had left her hand, Draco had pulled his wand from the pocket of his trousers.

 _“Locomotor Mortis!”_ Draco shouted. He pointed his wand at Iris with the hand not holding onto her heel and the curse hit her before she had a chance to react.

Her legs locked together, and she toppled over. She screeched and held her arms out in front of her so she wouldn’t hit the ground face first.

“Draco Malfoy, I am going to _murder_ you!” She screamed as the palms of her hands hit the dirt. She pushed up and moved into a position similar to that of a mermaid reclining on an ocean rock, unable to use her legs as separate entities.

“Please don’t hurt me, the thought of you bunny-hopping over here has me shaking in my loafers.” Draco cackled as he strode over towards her.

Iris began fumbling with the pocket of her trousers to retrieve her wand.

 _“Locomoter Wib-”_ Iris began but Draco snatched her wand from her hands.

“Oh no, you don’t.” He tauntingly waved her wand in front of her and then shoved it down into a pocket of his trousers. “If you turn my legs to jelly, we’ll never get to Andromeda’s.”

“And HOW are we going to get there with my legs super-glued?” Iris exclaimed as she wiggled her legs like a fish out of water.

“Well, that’s _obvious_.” Draco shrugged, dropping her heel to the ground. “Like this.” 

Before Iris could comprehend his meaning, Draco weaved one arm under her back, the other under her legs and lifted her up off the ground. Just as swiftly, he threw her over his shoulder and wrapped one arm around her legs to keep her steady. “DRACO, PUT ME DOWN THIS INSTANT!” Iris shouted. She pounded a fist against his back like a child throwing a tantrum and didn’t regret it one bit. 

“You should be thanking me.” Draco laughed. He used his free hand to place a levitation charm on Iris’ heels so they would follow him as he walked. “Now you get to relax the rest of the way to the cottage.”

“Thanking you!?” Iris exclaimed. “You just set the Witch’s Rights movement back thirty years!”

“That’s a bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think? Now, be pleasant or I’ll cast a silencing jinx on you too.”

Iris scoffed. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.” He said, repeating the declaration from before.

This time, Iris took him seriously as she resigned with a huff and relaxed his grip.

“Good girl.” Draco crooned.

Iris pounded her fists against his back until her arms burned.

Draco laid her down in the grass near Ted Tonks’ old flower garden.

The Tonks’ home itself wasn’t the grandest, largest estate but it looked every bit out of a fairytale with Elizabethan windows, exposed brick, and timber décor. Ivy sprawled over the exterior and the pathway up to the doorstep was made of cobblestone. The cottage itself was the perfect size for a small family, but the land that surrounded it was extensive.

The pathway separated the enormous flower garden on the left side of the front yard and the pond on the right. Hagrid and Harry had crashed into that exact pond the night of the flight from Little Whinging. Iris had been to visit Andromeda a few times since the end of the War, but each time she was mesmerized by the way sunlight gleamed off the crystal-clear water.

“Well, this is charming.” Draco stated as his eyes scanned over the front of the house and the yard. Iris was unable to discern whether he was being genuine or not.

“It certainly would be if I could walk.” She complained.

“I almost forgot.” Draco chuckled as he glanced down at her. He waved his wand, laying her floating heels on the grass, and then pointed it at her legs. “When I reverse the jinx, I think it would be in our best interest, and in the best interest of _the case_ , if you don’t try to throttle me.”

Iris threw her hands in the air. “For the love of Merlin, I don’t want to hop around Andromeda’s house.”

“Iris.” He looked at her pointedly.

“I’m over it, I swear. Now please unlock my goddamn legs.”

Draco scrutinized her carefully, trying to find any hint of treachery in her eyes or on her face. Iris watched as he reached the conclusion that she was telling the truth and he waved his wand as he mumbled the incantation to reverse the Leg-Locking spell.

Iris sighed in relief as her legs separated.

Draco retrieved her wand from his pocket and threw it.

Iris snatched her wand as it landed in the grass next to her and shoved it back into her trousers. After waiting for full capability to return to each of her legs, Iris stood slowly and then curled her toes into the grass.

She smiled and met Draco’s eyes. “Hey, Draco?”

“Yes?” He said cautiously.

“I’m not over it.”

Iris bolted from where she was standing and hurled herself at Draco. She slammed into him and the air was knocked from her lungs as they landed harshly on the grass. They had each other in a death grip as they rolled in the grass over to the pathway near the front door.

Iris’ head hit the cobblestones and muddled her vision, giving Draco a window of opportunity to overpower her. They rolled back into the grass and he pinned her arms above her head and sat firmly on her legs so she couldn’t move.

“You are testing my patience.” He snarled, his breath hot on her face.

“Says the wizard that cursed me ten minutes ago.”

“I’m going to let you go.”

Iris laughed. “That’s not a good idea.”

“Iris.”

“Draco.”

“I’m going to let you go and you’re not going to attack me.”

Iris pretended to be deep in thought and then said, “No, I’m going to attack you.”

“You’re not going to attack me.”

“ _I am._ ”

“No, you’re not.”

Iris conceded. “No, I’m not.”

Draco arched an eyebrow and slightly lessened the pressure on her legs.

Iris used the opportunity to stick one of her legs in-between both of his and slam her knee up into his groin.

“Fuck, Iris!” Draco howled as he released his grip on her arms and rolled off of her. He folded into the fetal position and clutched his family jewels as Iris stood and clapped the dirt off her hands. They had rolled over the pathway and Iris’ back was inches away from the pond.

“Truce?” Iris smirked while she watched him roll around.

Draco set his eyes on her and groaned, “Truce.”

He exhaled deeply and unfolded himself carefully. He stood and after brushing the grass off his trousers, he met her eyes with another deep exhale. The pain in his eyes had been replaced with a fire that made Iris uneasy and when his lips curled to one side, she knew she was in trouble.

“Draco, don’t!” Iris screeched as he charged at her and they went flying into the pond.

They were twisted in each other’s arms when they crashed underwater and the cold temperature was a shock to Iris’ system. She shoved Draco away and breached the surface gasping for air. He appeared from next to her, a cheeky grin plastered on his face, and she splashed him ferociously. “YOU’VE GONE MAD!”

“Oops.” He shrugged as wet strands of blond hair fell into his face.

“You idiot, how are we supposed to walk into your aunt’s house like this?!”

He moved towards her. “I guess it’s a good thing we know about a handful of drying spells.”

“Yeah, but we’re going to smell like pond scum.” She crinkled her nose.

Draco laughed loudly. It was a laugh full of joy and Iris couldn’t help but smile at the sound.

“There isn’t anyone I’d rather smell like pond scum with.” He grinned as he tucked a clump of curls that had gathered in front of her face behind her ear.

Her heart raced as his fingers brushed her cheek.

He drifted close and had sunk low enough into the water so that he was eye level with her. Underwater, his fingers hesitantly ran along the hem of her blouse and a brief brush of his finger against her bare stomach set her nerves on fire.

Iris’ breath hitched in her throat as he moved closer.

She placed her palms on his chest to keep him at a distance, but her hands had a mind of their own as they pushed down his blazer at the shoulders and ran her over the corded muscle that had developed there.

Her eyes were locked in his silver gaze as he leaned forward and affectionately brushed his nose with hers.

Her mind screamed at her to back away.

If she leaned forward an inch, their lips would touch.

“ _Well_ , this is unexpected.” Andromeda Tonks exclaimed from the edge of the pond.

Iris and Draco’s heads snapped in the witch’s direction and in a brief moment of panic, Iris shoved Draco away from her and he crashed backwards into the water with a yelp.

“Andromeda, is that a new dress?” Iris smiled sheepishly. “It’s lovely.”

Andromeda’s lips curled in amusement, and once Draco resurfaced, the witch spun around on her heel and beckoned the pair to follow her inside.

Andromeda escorted Iris and Draco inside, briefly giving Iris a moment to grab her heels from near the flower garden, and they each took turns in the guest bathroom using the Hot Air charm on themselves and their clothes.

However, a charm could only do so much and there was a slight smell of the pond that followed Iris and Draco as they sat on opposite ends of the loveseat in Andromeda’s sitting room.

Andromeda sat in front of them in an old armchair and the amusement on the witch’s face had grown significantly when, while preparing cups of her tea for the three of them, Iris and Draco informed her that they took their tea the same way.

Iris risked a glance at Draco and noticed that he was staring at Andromeda with wide eyes. The resemblance she bore of Bellatrix still jarred Iris from time to time so she could only imagine how startling it must’ve been for Draco.

Andromeda’s chestnut brown hair rested on her shoulders and a few streaks of silver were present among the strands. While the expression on her face was warm, the calculation that was present in her light brown eyes reminded Iris of Narcissa. That calculation, combined with the elegance and grace of her movements, were all products of her Pureblood upbringing.

“I apologize that you both had to walk the rest of the way here, I forgot that I haven’t adjusted the wards to let Iris through without Harry.” Andromeda said as she handed Iris her cup of tea.

“Oh, don’t worry about it.” Iris sipped her tea. “The fresh air was needed after visiting Azkaban.”

“I was almost prepared for you to ask for something stronger after visiting my brother-in-law.” Andromeda chuckled as she handed Draco his cup of tea. “I’m very glad to be meeting you, Draco.”

“Uh huh.” Draco’s mind was far away as he stared at Andromeda, but the warmth from the cup of tea she placed in his hands jarred him into returning to the present. “I have something for you, from my mother.” He said after taking a sip of his tea and then cautiously setting the cup on the end table next to him.

Iris’ eyes snapped towards Draco. He hadn’t mentioned anything about Narcissa beforehand.

Andromeda’s eyes went wide. “Cissy used you as your errand boy, did she?” The hint of resentment was evident in Andromeda’ voice but if it bothered Draco, he didn’t let it show.

“It’s only a letter.” Draco retrieved the letter from his blazer. “The ink bled a bit from the pond water, but I dried it and the writing is still legible. Read it or don’t, I don’t care either way.” He held out the letter and Andromeda eyed it suspiciously before taking it from his hand and placing it inside a pocket of the cardigan she was wearing.

“Where’s Teddy?” Iris asked, trying to ease the tension.

“He’s down for a nap.” Andromeda said as she realigned her posture, somehow sitting straighter than before. “So, you’ve dried off, we’ve got our tea, why don’t you tell me why you two are here and why it involves my family?”

Iris sighed inwardly.

Narcissa’s letter had dampened Andromeda’s mood. Iris wanted to tackle Draco for not warning her ahead of time that his mother planned on using their _work_ visit as a way to reach out to her estranged sister.

She glanced over at Draco who was lounging against the arm of the loveseat with a blank expression on his face.

Iris returned her gaze to Andromeda recalled the events of the last week and a half.

Andromeda sighed deeply when Iris finished recalling the latest news on the Greyback case, the possibility of Lucius being released on house arrest, and all she had discovered about Regulus so far.

“Regulus was only twelve when I ran off with Ted. I don’t know how much help I can be.” Andromeda said. “I’m afraid that you may have wasted your time.”

“Anything you remember about Regulus could be helpful.” Iris explained. “When was the last time you saw him?”

“Oh my, that was so long ago.” Andromeda remarked thoughtfully. “The last time I saw my cousin was the day I graduated from Hogwarts. He passed me on the train back into London and didn’t say a word. The news of my relationship with Ted had spread through the family by then.”

“I’m sorry.” Iris said. 

“That moment pales in comparison to what I endured at the hands of my parents.” Andromeda explained. “I didn’t blame Regulus as I did the others. He was only a boy and I couldn’t find it within me to fault a child.”

Draco shifted uncomfortably as Andromeda continued.

“After that day on the train, all I know of Regulus was funneled to me through Sirius. He wrote me to sparingly, most often when Nymphadora was first born because he couldn’t wait to meet her, but that never happened until he escaped from Azkaban.”

“When Sirius wrote to you, what would he say about his brother?” Iris asked.

Andromeda cleared her throat. “He wrote about the night he ran away to the Potters, how Regulus had been enraged at the sight of his suitcases by the front door. A couple years later, Sirius had heard through the grapevine that Regulus had taken the Dark Mark. He was distraught, his brother was only sixteen years old and my aunt and uncle had let him brand himself.”

At that Draco stood from the loveseat. “Do you mind if I get some air?”

“Go out back through the kitchen. There’s a beautiful view of the forest.” Andromeda motioned behind her and Draco nodded and strode out of the room.

Iris stared after him in concern.

The conversation didn’t resume until Iris and Andromeda heard the click of the kitchen door as it shut.

“I do hope I haven’t upset him.” Andromeda glanced behind her.

“You haven’t.” Iris said. “I think he’s overwhelmed. He was only sixteen when he took the Dark Mark too.”

“I expected that sort of cruelty from Lucius, but even after all these years it shocks me that my sister let that occur.” Andromeda absentmindedly ran her hand over the pocket where the letter from Narcissa was hidden. “What was he like? At Hogwarts, I mean? Before the War.”

“He was a spoiled tosser.” Iris snickered. “He was damn good at Quidditch, but don’t tell him I said so.”

“He takes after his mother.” Andromeda laughed. “As the youngest, our parents let Cissy get away with everything, so she was a bit of a terror. My parents already had the perfect Pureblood daughter in Bellatrix, and I was the _spare to the heir_ , as they say. So, when Cissy came along, they doted on her. Her curiosity always got the better of her, but she never reaped the consequences. Until she met Lucius.”

“How do you mean?” Iris asked, hanging on to every word.

“Lucius refused to let her in. A kiss here, a warm word there, and then months would go by before he gave Narcissa the time of day. It turned into a bitter challenge for her, she wanted to break Lucius apart and examine all the parts that made him who he was.”

That sounded eerily familiar.

“Sounds lovely.” Iris remarked.

“Yes, well, you see how that ended up.” Andromeda said as she sipped her tea. “I see that same curiosity in you, but your smarter than my sister and Draco isn’t Lucius. I see that much already.”

Iris was taken aback. “Oh, I think you’ve got the wrong idea. Draco and I are just co-workers.”

“My dear, Harry is a gossip. He hasn’t told me everything, but I was able to figure out there was some history between you and my nephew.” Andromeda looked up at the ceiling. “I almost regret interrupting the moment the two of you were having in the pond.” 

“There was _no moment_.” Iris asserted. “And Harry desperately needs a hobby.” 

At that moment the witches heard the kitchen door open and shut, signifying Draco’s return, and Andromeda winked at Iris before transitioning back to the original topic effortlessly.

“I only learned of Regulus’ death through Sirius.” Andromeda continued as Draco returned to his spot on the loveseat. “I wasn’t invited to the funeral, for obvious reasons. I wouldn’t have gone if I had been. I had Ted and Nymphadora to look after and Voldemort was wiping out entire families, I couldn’t take the risk.”

“Did Regulus have any friends?” Draco interrupted, taking charge of the interview for the first time since they arrived. “From when you knew him? What was he like as a child?”

“No, I never saw him hanging around anyone except Sirius.” Andromeda answered. “He followed his older brother and James Potter around like a lost puppy, desperate to be included. Otherwise, he always hid in his bedroom with that grumpy old House-Elf.”

Andromeda was cut off by the sound of Edward Lupin crying upstairs.

“Oh, Iris, Draco, be a couple dears and go check on Teddy for me? He’s supposed to be asleep for another half hour and he’ll never forgive me if he doesn’t get to see Iris.”

“Of course.” Iris smiled and she glanced over at Draco who looked nauseous. 

“I’m horrible with children.” He grimaced.

“You can just stand there and watch, Iris is wonderful with him.” Andromeda waved him off. “He is your second cousin. Go up there and meet him.”

Iris arched an eyebrow at Draco as she stood, daring him to oppose his aunt. He glanced back and forth between the two women and resigned at the determined look on each of their faces. He stood reluctantly and followed Iris up the stairs.

“We haven’t learnt anything we didn’t already know.” Draco whispered as they made their way down the hall. “This entire day has been _a waste of time_.”

“I wouldn’t consider meeting your estranged family as a waste of time.” Iris spat. “And why didn’t you tell me about the letter? You could’ve at least asked me when the best time was to give it to her.”

“I didn’t ask because it was none of your business.” He snapped. “It’s not even my business, I’m just the messenger.”

“You’re impossible.” She grumbled as they came upon Teddy’s bedroom door. Draco groaned at the sound of Teddy’s shrieking that could easily be heard through the walls and Iris whispered, _“Be nice.”_

Iris opened the door gently and she and Draco were greeted with the sight of Teddy Lupin wailing from a small bed.

“A-Aunt I-Iris?” Teddy blubbered. He clutched a quilted blanket to his chest and the sunlight that poured in from the bay window near his bed made his tears glisten as they ran down his cheeks.

“Hello, Teddy.” Iris crooned with a smile as she sat near the toddler on his bed. Teddy threw his blanket aside and stumbled into her lap, wrapping himself tightly around her. Iris squeezed him back just as tightly and began running her fingers through his short strands of sandy blonde hair.

“You s-smell weird.” The boy hiccupped.

Draco chuckled and the sound drew Teddy’s attention instantaneously.

“W-who’s he?” Teddy cried as he pointed a chubby finger at Draco.

“That’s Draco.” Iris glared at Draco who was awkwardly hovering by the doorway of Teddy’s bedroom. “He’s your cousin. He wanted to meet you, so we stopped by.”

“M-me?” Teddy’s green eyes, his natural eye color that he had inherited from Remus, went wide as he stared at Draco.

“Of course. Who wouldn’t want to meet you?” Iris said as Teddy laid his head against her chest. “Isn’t that right, _Draco?”_

“Oh, uh, yeah of course.” He grinned sheepishly as he took a step into Teddy’s bedroom.

Teddy pushed against Iris’ chest the closer Draco got and he noticed that the toddler was wary of his presence. His height must have been alarming to the boy-Teddy was used to Ron who towered over everyone, but he had never met Draco before. 

Iris mouthed _crouch down_ to Draco.

He rolled his eyes at her suggestion but did as she asked and bent down so he was eye level with Teddy. “It’s nice to meet you, Teddy.” Draco said as he extended a hand to him.

Teddy looked up at Iris to make sure Draco was safe and Iris nodded. Teddy laid his tiny hand on Draco’s palm and Draco enveloped it and shook gently. A smile broke out across Teddy’s face as Draco released his hand. “I like Dragon.” Teddy said, looking up at Iris with a world of wonder in his eyes.

Draco’s face screwed up. “Uh, kid, it’s Draco.”

Iris shot daggers at Draco as Teddy yawned and leaned back against Iris’ chest. “Dragon smells weird too.”

“It’s Draco.” He asserted once again but Teddy was no longer paying attention to his cousin. The boy was struggling to stay awake, undoubtedly exhausted after all that shrieking, and Iris watched as his eyes fluttered once more before closing.

Teddy was a light sleeper and Iris knew that she would need to hold him for a bit longer before she could be certain that he wouldn’t wake as soon as he left her arms. 

“He’s sweet, isn’t he?” She asked Draco who had taken a spot next to her on Teddy’s bed.

“If you don’t mind the tears and the snot, then yeah I guess so.”

Iris shook her head and laughed quietly as she continued running her fingers through Teddy’s hair. “You think you’ll ever have kids one day?”

Draco scanned the inner workings of Teddy’s bedroom, stopping to stare at the enchanted birds, squirrels, and other forest animals that scampered around within the wallpaper. “Maybe. Only if I know for sure I won’t be a total fuck up of a father, like my own.”

“You’re not your father.” Iris declared and Andromeda’s words from earlier rang through her head.

_He is not Lucius. That much I can see._

Draco smiled sadly, “What about you?”

“Yeah, I want to, but, many, many years from now.” Iris glanced down at Teddy sleeping her arms. “I grew up without siblings and as a kid I was so jealous of Ron for having six of them. I’d like to give my kids what I didn’t have.”

“You’ll be a great mother when the day comes.” Draco said and Iris’ heart warmed at the sincerity in his eyes.

“Thank you.”

He nodded, and at the sound of Teddy’s quiet snoring, asked, “You ready to head back down?”

Iris glanced at Teddy who had a bit of drool trailing down his chin. “Yeah, let me tuck him in.”

She scooted closer towards the head of Teddy’s bed with the toddler still in her arms and then gently laid his head against one of his pillows. She covered him with the quilted blanket, kissed him on the forehead, and then slowly backed away.

When she rejoined Draco, who was standing outside the room in the hall, the expression on his face held that same intrigue she had become accustomed to seeing at Hogwarts.

“Something wrong?” She whispered, arching an eyebrow.

He stared at her for a brief moment, a ghost of a smile on his face, and then shook his head. “No, nothing’s wrong, nothing at all.” He reached around Iris to shut Teddy’s bedroom door quietly and then placed a hand on the small of her back to steer her towards the stairs.

Draco removed his hand from Iris’ back once they reached the ground floor and she shoved the feeling that arose deep within her at the sudden absence of his touch.

The pair stood awkwardly in the doorway that led to the sitting room and Iris glanced over at Andromeda who was digging through the drawer of the writing desk in the corner. “Found it!” The witch exclaimed.

Iris and Draco sent her looks of confusion as she rounded the corner of the desk with a book clutched tightly in one hand. “Did Teddy fall asleep alright?” Andromeda asked as she reached them.

“Yeah, he passed out. He enjoyed meeting his cousin, Dragon.” Iris snickered.

Draco groaned from beside her.

“Oh, that’s adorable.” Andromeda laughed.

“What did you find?” Draco asked, desiring an end to the discussion of his new nickname.

“While the pair of you were upstairs, I got to thinking about the day of Regulus’ funeral and a thought crossed my mind.” Andromeda said. “The day of the funeral I received a peculiar book in the post. I meant to rid myself of it throughout the years but a voice in the back of my head always convinced me to keep it around.”

Andromeda handed the book to Iris and she recognized it instantly.

_The Little Prince by Antoine De Saint-Exupéry._

“This is a Muggle children’s book.” Iris exclaimed as she rotated the book in her hands. It was a teal hardcover edition of the famous French tale with flowers imprinted on the front cover.

“Yes, that’s what Ted told me.” Andromeda explained. “We assumed it was a gift from one of his relatives for Nymphadora but there’s an inscription on the inside cover that confused both of us.”

Iris flipped to what Andromeda was referring to.

_My Flower,_

_Thank you for teaching my heart to see what my eyes could not._

_I am never not thinking of you._

_Your Little Prince._

“This is Regulus’ handwriting.” Iris’ gasped. “I’d have to compare it with the journal but I’m almost positive it’s his.” She glanced over at Draco with wide eyes and he met her shock with his own expression of confusion.

“I had no idea.” Andromeda said, mournfully. "Why would he have sent it here? He shouldn't have even had the address." 

“That's what we need to find out." Iris narrowed her eyes as she ran her fingers over the inscription. "Do you mind if we take it with us? After I compare the writing, we could use a few spells to see if there are any secrets hidden within.”

“No please, take it. I’m glad to be able to help even the tiniest bit.” Andromeda assured her. 

Iris’ heart was racing. It may not have been the breakthrough she had been looking for, but it was _something_ , and a particularly interesting piece of evidence at that. “We should get going. Thank you so much for meeting with us Andromeda.” Iris grinned.

Andromeda reached out and squeezed her hand. “Of course, darling.”

Andromeda released Iris’ hand and glanced at Draco. “I will read your mother’s letter.” Andromeda placed a hand on one of Draco’s shoulders. “Thank you for coming to meet me, our family is so few these days. We need one another more than ever.”

Draco didn’t say word but nodded and it seemed that Andromeda understood his silence. 

The witch escorted Iris and Draco out and then the pair began their trek from the cottage and away from the wards so they could Apparate home.

Iris clutched the children's book so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

It turned out the day had not been a waste after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the late update! Finals week truly kicked my ass, but now I'm on break for a month which gives me time for a ridiculous amount of gaming AND frequent story updates.
> 
> Thank you all so much for over 1,000 reads! It was so exciting to hit that milestone. I appreciate those that comment and kudo just as much as my silent readers, y'all are so amazing and I don't deserve you. 
> 
> Third year flashbacks start next chapter and the link to the story playlist should be available soon. Much love. xo.


	14. The Boy At The Piano

**September 10, 1993**

_It was the end of the first full week of classes and Harry Potter and Iris Sinclair were the only inhabitants of the Gryffindor Common Room. Iris lounged on the loveseat and her feet, swaddled in the wool socks Molly Weasley knitted for her last Christmas, were perched on Harry’s lap as she flipped from page to page of Quidditch Maneuvers Monthly._

_“Did you know you have to fly under an opponent for the Speelman Steel? If I can master that, I’m bound to impress Oliver at tryouts.” She stated as she peered over the top of her magazine at Harry._

_Harry had been lost in thought, his eyes glued to the roaring flames coming from the fireplace. The sound of Iris’ voice broke the trance and his eyes moved slowly to meet hers._

_“What?” He asked, confused. The glow from the fireplace illuminated the jewel tone quality of his green eyes and Iris could see her reflection in the large, round lenses of his glasses._

_“Tryouts? For the Quidditch team next Sunday? Ring a bell?” Iris arched an eyebrow._

_There was one spot open on the team after the graduation of one of Gryffindor’s Chasers last spring and Iris was determined to be the witch to fill it._

_“Oh, right, I’m sorry.” Harry furrowed his brow and pinched the bridge of his nose to clear his head. “The Speelman Steel would be perfect, but you’re going to get the spot regardless. Katie and Angelina have already talked you up to Oliver.”_

_“They have?” She asked baffled._

_Iris had watched Katie Bell and Angelina Johnson, the two remaining Chasers, in admiration for the past two school years. This was big news and, normally, Harry would’ve come to her the moment he heard._

_Harry and Iris had been plotting and planning for her tryout since they learned a spot was opening up._

_His lack of excitement was telling of his somber mood._

_Iris closed the Quidditch magazine and laid it gently on the floor. She removed her feet from Harry’s lap and scooted closer towards him, wrapping her arms around her knees. “Sickle for your thoughts?”_

_He chuckled softly. “A Sickle wouldn’t be worth it. A Knut maybe.”_

_Iris frowned and poked his forehead gently. “Harry Potter, what’s going on inside that head of yours? You’ve been out of it all afternoon.”_

_“Just dreading the Frog Choir concert is all.” He declared unconvincingly._

_To celebrate the beginning of the school year, the Frog Choir was performing in the Great Hall and all were highly recommended, but not required, to attend. Hermione had convinced Harry and Ron to go with her, on the promise of doing their Potions homework for the next week, but Iris had refused._

_Most of Hogwarts was going to the concert which meant the corridors would be void of unruly students, giving Iris the perfect opportunity to roam the castle uninterrupted. The quiet from the lack of students was calming and her adventurous heart enjoyed letting the ever-moving staircases take her wherever they wanted her to go._

_She was also slightly disturbed by the toads the Frog Choir sang along with and wished to avoid the amphibians at all costs._

_“Harry.” Iris emphasized his name. “You know you can tell me anything.”_

_“There’s nothing to tell.” He spat._

_Iris flinched at his tone and her worry increased. He was never this closed off with her. . .and she was positive it had to do with the ever-looming threat of Sirius Black._

_Before Iris could push further, Hermione and Ron bounded down the spiral staircase that led to the dormitories._

_Her eyes were glued to Harry, her worry and growing frustration evident. His eyes met hers and pleaded with her to drop the subject. She was reluctant to, as Harry would be forced to spill if she had Hermione and Ron backing her up, but she didn’t want to upset him further._

_Iris leaned backwards and resumed her previous lounging position to indicate her resignation._

_Hermione laid her hands on the back of the loveseat. “Harry, are you ready?”_

_“As I’ll ever be.” He groaned._

_Harry stood and took position at Ron’s side. For the first time, Iris noticed how much older the boys looked. Their faces had lost their soft, round innocence and Ron was only a couple inches shy from being as tall as Fred and George. Harry had also sprouted over the summer and his hair had grown out, sticking out at all angles more than usual._

_Iris’ heart panged._

_Her friends were growing up before her eyes and it made her sad for reasons she didn’t yet understand._

_“Iris, are you sure I can’t convince you to come?” Hermione asked._

_“Absolutely not.” Iris waved her off. “There are some things this Muggle-Born will never understand and that’s the Wizarding World’s desire to harmonize with toads.”_

_Ron snickered and clasped a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Come on, we’re going to be stuck sitting with the First years if we don’t get a move on.” Ron reached over the back of the loveseat and ruffled up Iris’ hair before pushing Harry towards the portrait hole._

_The boys disappeared from view and Iris flashed a cheeky grin at Hermione. “You better get going or someone else is going to steal your seat next to Ron.”_

_“Will you give it up already?” Hermione gasped as she slapped Iris’ arm. “I **don’t** fancy Ron.” _

_“You’re the one that brought up fancying.” Iris teased. “I was merely suggesting that you’d need to sit by him to make sure he doesn’t have any Stink Pellets stuck up his sleeve.”_

_“You're not funny.” Hermione tried her hardest to glare at Iris, but a smile broke through when the latter began wagging her eyebrows. “Sleep with one eye open tonight.” She pointed at Iris threateningly as she made her way towards the portrait hole and then disappeared._

_Iris laughed softly and was in the process of reaching for the Quidditch magazine when she heard the Fat Lady’s portrait swing open again. Harry appeared near the entryway and rushed over towards her. “I’m sorry for being a prat. I promise I’m fine but thank you for always caring.” He blurted out._

_And then he did something Iris hadn’t expected._

_He bent down and kissed her on the cheek._

_Iris was left speechless again and nodded with a simple, “Uh-huh.”_

_Harry grinned nervously, his cheeks flushed, and then ran out of the Common Room, tripping on the rug on the way out._

_It had been an hour since the beginning of the Frog Choir concert and the kiss on the cheek incident was shoved far back into Iris’ mind. As she had planned, she had given the staircases total control over where she would wander throughout the castle and she made small talk with the portraits along the way._

_At the top of the hour, she ended up on the fourth floor and spent more time than she intended closely examining the Quidditch trophies. Her imagination had run wild as she pictured having a trophy of her own in the case one day._

_She had torn herself away from the trophy case and the stairs had brought her to the second floor next. After finding a book on Grindylows in the library, as it was rumored that Professor Lupin kept one in a tank in his office, she spent the rest of that first hour of peace flipping from page to page._

_A few twists and turns later, Iris was now wandering around the third floor with nothing but the sconces to light her way._

_She had just passed the door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom when she heard voices coming at her from the opposite direction. She groaned inwardly and prepared to awkwardly nudge by whoever was coming her way._

_“Oh, Draco, I could hold your hand if I walked on your other side.” Pansy Parkinson crooned._

_Chills shot down Iris’ spine as Pansy’s voice echoed throughout the corridor_

_“And why would I want that?” The familiar voice of Draco Malfoy drawled._

_Iris’ stomach flipped as their voices neared and she tried the handle of a storage closest to her left._

_It was locked._

_Next, she tried the doorknob to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and that too was locked tight._

_She scanned her surroundings as the Slytherins gained on her and knew she was out of options. She pretended to be caught up in a conversation with one of the portraits on the wall when Pansy and Draco came into view and stopped in their tracks at the sight of her._

_“My, my, my, what do we have here?” Pansy sneered. “Is that one of Potter’s lapdogs?”_

_Iris groaned audibly and turned to face Pansy. The witch’s lips were curled in amusement as she bore her brown eyes into Iris’ hazel ones. “After last year, I thought Mudbloods knew better than to wander around alone.” Pansy said as she placed her a hand on her hip haughtily._

_“From one lapdog to another, I’m genuinely surprised you were even aware of what was going on last year. You know, considering how far your head was, and still is, shoved up Malfoy’s arse.” Iris retorted._

_From the corner of her eye, she caught the amused upturn of Draco’s lips. His reaction surprised her; it was the biggest indication she’d gotten in months that he was aware of her existence._

_Ever since he had helped her through a panic attack last spring, Draco had barely glanced her way, let alone acknowledged her presence when she was nearby. The Slytherin’s poisonous arrogance and vicious taunting of her friends had increased tenfold compared to last year. However, while he directed the majority of that towards Harry, Ron, Hermione, his malicious remarks never landed in Iris’ direction._

_It was as if she was so beneath him that he didn’t want to waste his breath on her._

_Somehow she found that to be even worse than combating his snide comments and tricks with ones of her own._

_“It’s a shame the attacks stopped after Weasley was taken into the Chamber. I was holding out for you to be next.” Pansy snarled. “I was hoping you’d be the one Pomfrey couldn’t manage to wake up.”_

_Pansy Parkinson was as terrifying as a squashed beetle underneath Iris’ shoe, but after the crushing worry that Iris had experienced because of Hermione’s petrification last year, the remark hit close to her heart._

_“As always Parkinson, it's been a pleasure.” Iris smiled mockingly as she tried to push past Pansy, needing to remove herself from the situation, but the Slytherin shoved her backwards._

_Iris stumbled backwards and caught herself on the door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, stopping herself from falling on her arse._

_“Oh, we’re not done with you yet, are we Draco?” Pansy pursed her lips and glanced at Draco who had been staring at a portrait on the wall. He turned his gaze on Pansy at the sound of his name and then his eyes flicked towards Iris._

_Iris’ eyes met his and her chest squeezed at the way the flames from the sconces brought out the silver quality of his grey eyes. He had stopped slicking his hair back with that god awful hair gel, instead the platinum strands were parted to the side and a few fell loosely in his face._

_Draco’s right arm hung in a sling after his altercation with Buckbeak the Hippogriff. The sling served as a reminder of how he’d managed to ruin Hagrid’s first day of teaching Care of Magical Creatures and Iris could look at the boy with nothing but disdain._

_The door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom swung open, startling Iris and drawing her gaze from Draco._

_Professor Remus Lupin stood in the entryway, one hand resting on the doorknob and the other on the doorframe. “I thought I heard someone trying to get in.” He said as his eyes flitted quizzically between the three students in the corridor._

_His light green eyes studied Iris’ obvious discomfort as a strand of shaggy, light brown hair fell across one of the scars on his cheek. Professor Lupin was one of the youngest professors at Hogwarts, only a few years into his early thirties, and that made him a favorite of the older students._

_Earlier in the week, Iris had passed a group of Seventh year Ravenclaws whispering about the professor’s “ruggedly handsome” features. Iris had cringed at the time but even she could admit that Lupin was easy on the eyes._

_“What are you three doing out here?” Lupin demanded. “Shouldn’t you be at the Frog Choir concert?”_

_“Professor Lupin, how are you?” Pansy plastered on a grin. “Draco and I were on our way to the Great Hall for the last half of the concert when we ran into Iris here. I was just about to ask her to join us, would you like to come along?” Pansy batted her eyelashes at Lupin and Iris felt bile rise in her throat._

_Lupin scrutinized Pansy carefully and then glanced at Iris. “Iris, do you want to go to the concert with Pansy and Draco?”_

_“Uh, not particularly, no.”_

_“Well then, that’s settled.” Lupin said with a shrug. “Pansy I appreciate your offer, but I’ll have to refuse as well. Now you and Draco go on, I’d like to speak with Iris alone.”_

_“But-” Pansy began._

_“Pansy, let’s go.” Draco cut her off and the sound of his voice made the hair on Iris’ arms stand up. “Good evening, Professor Lupin.” He nodded, and without a glance at Iris, he stormed down the corridor._

_Pansy whined and chased after him._

_Iris’ eyes followed the sight of Draco’s blond head until it disappeared into the dark and then turned back around to face Professor Lupin._

_“Now that that’s been taken care of, would you like to come in?” Lupin asked. “A couple of your classmates forgot to put their names on their Boggart scrolls, and I was thinking you might be able to recognize their handwriting.”_

_Iris grinned and nodded her head eagerly._

_“That’s Ron’s.” Iris facepalmed as she looked over the barely legible handwriting. “I tried to remind him to write his name and he threatened to jinx me for treating him like he a child.” She waved the scroll of parchment and then handed it to Professor Lupin who was sitting behind his desk. “Turns out he’s a child and a **moron**.” _

_Lupin chuckled as he wrote Ron’s name on the scroll and placed it with the others. “That certainly explains the dramatic tale he spun about being chased by spiders the size of Muggle cars. Quite the imagination on that one.”_

_Iris’ eyes widened as she paced around Lupin’s office. “If that’s what you want to call it.”_

_Lupin eyed her amusingly as he handed her another scroll to identify._

_A growl from the corner of the room caught their attention and Iris laughed loudly at the sound._

_Professor Lupin did in fact have a Grindylow in his office, stored in an extremely large tank of water, and the creature had taken a liking to Iris. It growled whenever it wanted Iris’ attention and as soon as she was close enough to the tank, it would bare its teeth and smash its face against the glass._

_“Be quiet over there.” Iris scolded the creature, crouching down so she was face to face with it. The Grindylow smashed its face against the glass once more and then retreated into the mass of algae within the tank._

_“Can I keep it? After your lesson on the creatures of the Black Lake.” She grinned over her shoulder at Lupin. “I think I’ll name him Severus.”_

_“Absolutely not.” Lupin chuckled._

_“At least I tried.” She sighed as she unraveled the latest scroll. Iris needed only scan the first line of handwriting before realizing whose it was. “Oh, for the love of Merlin, this is Harry’s.” She groaned. “Honestly, he and Ron would be lost without me and Hermione. It’s embarrassing.”_

_“The four of you remind me of my friend group when I was student.” Lupin said as Iris handed the scroll back to him. “You four seem to have a knack for getting into trouble the same way we did.”_

_“Is that a compliment, Professor?” Iris asked, a bit worried she’d made a bad first impression._

_“The best.” He said with a weak smile. He was lost in memory for the briefest of moments before refocusing on Iris. “I noticed the boggart didn’t know what shape to take when you stepped up to it. It reverted back to Dean Thomas’ fear of severed hands. Why was that?”_

_Iris shrugged. “Maybe because even I don’t know what my biggest fear is. I would say singing toads but that just sounds ridiculous.” She frowned. “I have been agonizing over my tryout for the Gryffindor Quidditch team all week, but not out of fear. I'm anxious.”_

_“Fear and anxiety are very different. It’s possible the boggart wasn’t able to find shape for your greatest fear because it comes from within, not from an external danger.” Lupin stated._

_“Hey, you’re the professor. If you think that’s the case, I believe you.”_

_“What is bothering you so deeply, if you don’t mind me asking?” Lupin asked. “Besides the usual nerves, of course.”_

_“Oh, it’s a bit materialistic honestly.” Iris admitted as she crossed her arms. “I’m Muggle-Born, if you didn’t know that already, which means my parents aren’t exactly swimming in Galleons. I don’t have a broom of my own and I don’t have the means to buy one either.”_

_“Ah, I think I understand.”_

_Iris nodded at the professor and resumed her pacing around his office. “I’ve spent plenty of time practicing on the school’s supply of Shooting Stars, as well as Harry’s Nimbus from time to time, but I worry that without a broom of my own, I’ll never be able to reach my full potential. I’ll be miles behind everyone else on a broom that’s been around since **Dumbledore** was a student.” _

_Lupin sighed and clasped his hands together. “Iris, you’re only thirteen. Believe me when I say you have decades of potential left.” He stood and glanced at the clock on his fireplace mantel. “As for the broom, a close friend of mine also practiced for his Quidditch tryout on one of the school’s Shooting Stars. His parents were wealthy, but they refused to buy him a broom of his own until he could prove that he was capable of flying properly. He made the team on one of those ancient brooms and I believe you will too.”_

_Lupin’s kind words only eased her anxiety slightly, but they did warm her heart. “Thank you, Professor.” Iris smiled._

_“Any time." Lupin smiled. "Now, it’s nearly ten. Let me walk you back to the Tower and you can tell me all about this fear of singing toads.” Lupin said as he opened his office door and motioned for her to exit._

_“It’s the beady eyes.” Iris shivered. “Those big, beady eyes. . ."_

_Just as Professor Lupin had predicted, Oliver Wood offered Iris the position of Chaser only fifteen minutes after her tryout. Practicing with the Gryffindor team on one of the Shooting Stars was proving difficult but Iris was managing._

_However, as the Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff match was on the horizon, Iris’ anxiety over being the slowest player on the pitch was becoming more and more prevalent._

_To calm herself, Iris was helping Hagrid pluck the weeds from his vegetable garden the weekend before the match. Hagrid preferred the Muggle way of gardening whenever he could, he believed it cleared the mind, and Iris was used to helping her mum in her garden back in home._

_Iris’ weed pile was growing to an extraordinary height when an owl came swooping down over her head and dropped a large package in the dirt in front of her. From the wrapping alone, it was undoubtedly a broom._

_“What the?” Iris exhaled as she smacked the dirt from off her gloves and then removed them._

_“Did ye buy a broom, Iris?” Hagrid shouted from the other side of the garden._

_“No! It must be a mistake!” She shouted back._

_Iris kneeled down in the dirt and grabbed the address tag which surprisingly was labeled with her name and Hagrid’s hut as the place of delivery. Assured that the package was meant for her, Iris unwrapped the broom and gasped._

_It was a Comet 270._

_Iris could tell just by looking at it._

_She had spent a half an hour staring at the newly released broom in Quality Quidditch Supplies last month when she had went shopping for her schoolbooks. She ran her hand over the smooth, mahogany handle and the bristles which were charmed to look as if they’d been dipped in melted gold._

_Hagrid’s steps thundered as he made his way over to her and he exclaimed at the sight of the broom. “What a beaut! If ye didn’ buy it, who’s it from?”_

_Iris tore open the envelope that had come with the broom._

_Iris,_

_Congrats._

_Show those badgers what you’re made of._

_R. J. L._

**September 15, 2000**

Iris was surrounded by lilac bubbles as she relaxed in the bath. Lit candles floated in the air around the tub and Nyx napped on the edge of the bathroom sink, soft white fur puffing out as she laid directly on her belly.

Tonight Iris, Ron, and Harry were throwing Hermione an early birthday party at her flat along with Ginny, George, and numerous old friends from their days at Hogwarts. Hermione’s actual birthday wasn’t until the following Tuesday, but the witch was going out of town with her parents for a week to celebrate her twenty-first.

After the week Iris had dealt with at work, she was dying to drink with her closest friends in celebration of her favorite witch’s birthday.

Her position as Draco’s temporary mentor was tense at best. After their visit with Andromeda, the Slytherin had retreated within himself. Earlier at work, Iris had tried to draw something other than a silent nod or groan of disapproval out of him, but her efforts had fallen short.

At the thought of Draco, she submerged herself in the bath and reveled in the blissful silence that came with it. The quiet that came with being underwater eased her anxiety in a way that nothing else could.

Well, except for flying. 

She waited to resurface until her lungs burned with the need for air and a knock at the bathroom door not soon afterwards interrupted her peace.

“Who is it?” She called.

“The most handsome and talented wizard you’ve ever known.” Ron Weasley crooned through the door.

Iris laughed. “I’m in the bath, what do you want?”

“Can I come in?”

“Ron, I’m naked.”

“Have you forgotten how long we shared a tent when we were seventeen? I’m immune to your feminine wiles.”

“I feel like I should be insulted.” Iris declared thoughtfully.

“Iris.” Ron pleaded.

She snickered. “Come in.”

Ron opened the door to her bathroom slowly and Nyx opened her eyes lazily at his entrance. She mewed softly and rolled over onto her back, fluffy white hair stuck sticking in the air.

“I can’t believe that thing is still alive.” Ron shuddered.

Iris narrowed her eyes and flicked water at him. “Watch it.”

“You’re drowning in bubbles! I can’t even see anything! Bloody hell, even your hair is covered.” He motioned at her head. “You just enjoy listening to me beg, don’t you?”

“Maybe.” Iris smirked as she propped her chin on one arm. “Now take a seat on my throne and tell me why you’ve disturbed my peace.” She waved her free hand, also covered in bubbles, towards her toilet.

“Honestly, woman.” Ron groaned as he plopped down. “I come to you for help and this is how you treat me.”

“Help?” Iris arched an eyebrow. “Help with what?”

"Don't yell at me." He eyed her cautiously. 

"Ron." 

“I still haven’t bought Hermione a gift.” He blurted out.

“Ron!" Iris' jaw dropped. "The party is in four hours!”

“I know, I know, but I’ve been distracted!” He held his hands up in surrender. “George has been giving me more responsibility at the shop, I’ve been all over the place.”

Iris sat up straight in the bathtub, taking care that her chest was also hidden by the mass of bubbles. “I’ve been plenty distracted as well, i.e. the Slytherin sleeping only a floor away, and _I_ still managed to buy her a gift.”

“Well, what did you get her?” Ron asked suspiciously.

“Oh, no.” She exclaimed. “I’m not telling you because then you’ll just try to piggyback off of it.”

“Iris! I’m running out of time!” Ron agonized. “What should I get her? Should I just pop over to Flourish and Blotts?”

“Oh, for the love of Merlin, do not get her a book.”

“Why not?” He furrowed her brow. “She loves books.”

“So much so that she buys more in a week than she can carry out of the shop. You need to get her something from your heart.” Iris arched a brow. “After the year you two have been through, it would mean more than you know.”

Ron’s eyes darkened at the mention of his separation from Hermione. “You think I don’t know that? I’d give her the whole bloody universe if I could.”

Iris looked at her best friend with sympathy and then a light bulb went off in her head.

“I know that look.” Ron said. “What’re you thinking?”

“Maybe you _can_ give her the universe.” Iris declared and the hope returned to Ron’s eyes as she relayed her impromptu idea.

A couple hours later, Iris was putting the finishing touches on her outfit for the evening. Hermione had demanded that everyone dress in their party best and she was never one to complain about having to get dolled up. 

She had pinned half of her long curls back with a silver hair clip and let the other half hang loosely past her chest. She looked closely in the mirror to examine the symmetry of her winged eyeliner as well as the diamond studs that adorned her ears.

For her outfit, Iris had opted for sexy yet comfortable. She had chosen a long-sleeve, black velvet dress with a low square neckline that accentuated her cleavage. The dress ended mid-thigh with a small slit up one side and clung to the curves of her body.

On her feet, she wore a pair of obscenely glittery silver heels.

After painting her lips crimson red and spraying perfume on her wrists, Iris slowly descended down the never-ending stairs of the townhome to the parlor where she was meeting Harry and Ginny.

Draco’s bedroom door was shut firmly when Iris passed by. She hesitated for a moment, the thought of knocking on his door crossing her mind briefly. With a sigh, and her fist half-raised, she decided against it and continued on her way down to the parlor.

She heard Harry and Ginny’s voices before she swung open the door to the parlor and was greeted with the sight of the happy couple standing in front the fireplace . . . as well as Kreacher lounging in an armchair with a glass of scotch in his hands and Draco playing a soft tune on the piano on the other side of the room.

“Iris!” Ginny exclaimed and she rushed forward to embrace her. Iris squeezed her back tightly, but her eyes were on Draco who looked up and stalled his fingers on the piano keys when he heard her name called. 

The look on his face was unreadable, and once Ginny released her from her arms, Iris tore her eyes from Draco to give the Weasley a once over.

Ginny had adorned herself in an emerald silk dress that hung to her knees. The dress was held up on her freckled shoulders by two thin straps and her red hair was plaited down her back. Curled tendrils of red hair framed Ginny's face and hanging from her ears were a pair square-cut emerald and gold drop earrings.

“Gin, I’m speechless.” Iris whistled and Ginny twirled in appreciation on gold block heels.

“I’m the one that’s speechless. You look stunning, Iris.” Ginny grinned as she returned to Harry’s side and looped an arm through one of his.

Harry was dressed to match Ginny in an emerald, long sleeve button down with black trousers and black leather loafers. He had yet to shave the scruff of facial hair he had acquired, and Iris couldn’t believe how much older it made him look.

“I agree with Ginny, you look beautiful.” Harry smiled.

“Kreacher also agrees. Mistress Iris is the picture of beauty.” Kreacher toasted her with his glass.

There was noted silence from the other side of the room.

“Oh, stop it. You guys are going to make me blush.” Iris flipped her hair dramatically and Ginny snickered.

“Harry, you look very handsome, as do you Kreacher.” Iris said taking note of the sweater the House-Elf was wearing, one she had recently transfigured to fit him. “I only hope Ronald can manage to clean up just as nicely.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to see what he dragged out of the back of his wardrobe.” Harry chuckled. “Ginny’s the one that put together my whole get up. I’d be lost without her.” He met Ginny’s eyes and the raw love on his face forced Iris to look away.

She tried to meet Draco’s eyes again, but he had resumed playing the piano and his head was down as he focused on his fingers on the keys. Her heart sunk and a part of her was disappointed.

Disappointed that he didn’t have a snide comment to make? Or disappointed because his approval was still the one she sought most of all?

She didn’t know.

“Ready to go? Ron is going to meet us at ‘Mione’s flat.” Harry asked, drawing Iris from her thoughts. “We still need to decorate but Ginny is going to lock her in her bedroom, so she won’t see until we’re done.”

Iris smiled weakly. “After you.” She motioned for the couple to walk on ahead of her and when she followed them out the parlor, she resisted the urge to look over her shoulder once more at the boy at the piano. 

Ron let Iris, Harry, and Ginny into Hermione’s flat and Iris sighed in relief at his attire. He was dressed in a white dress shirt, tan trousers, and brown penny loafers. In typical Ron fashion, however, he had added a touch of authentic Weasley with suspenders decorated with the Gryffindor house colors of scarlet and gold.

Ron whistled at the sight of the three of them. “Looking good, not as good as me of course, but nice job.”

"He gets it right once and his ego grows to the size of a Quaffle." Harry whispered to Iris and they both laughed softly. 

“Shove it.” Ginny narrowed her eyes as she pushed past her brother. “Is Hermione upstairs?”

“You bet. I threatened the life of that demon cat of hers if she tried to sneak down here.”

As if on cue, Crookshanks meowed and bounded up the stairs once Iris and Harry shut the front door behind them.

“Harry, Iris?!” Hermione’s voice bounded through the flat. “I’m coming down!”

“I’m here too!” Ginny scoffed. “And no, you’re not!” She yelled as she bounded up the stairs, carefully maneuvering around the various stacks of books in her path.

Once Ginny was out of sight and keeping Hermione busy, Harry and Iris pulled out their wands and got to work alongside Ron. Iris glanced around and noticed that Ron had already laid out an array of Hermione’s favorite dinners and desserts on the round dining table.

Hermione’s flat was the perfect size for a witch living on her own. When one entered through the front door, there was a staircase that led directly to the upstairs and a door to a guest bathroom on the right. There was a kitchen to the left and the dining table separated it from the large living room. There were a handful of bookcases covering the walls of the living room as well as a large bay window Iris had found Hermione reading upon on numerous occasions.

Upstairs were Hermione’s bedroom, her personal bathroom, and a guest bedroom.

With a flick of her wand, Iris sent the stray piles of books scattered throughout the flat into the guest bedroom where they would be safe from accidental spills. She then lit candles and charmed them to float around close to the ceiling, out of reach but close enough that they created a warm ambience.

Harry conjured trays of champagne flutes that would refill once emptied and then, with help from Iris, decorated the cake Neville had baked and sent over with Ron. He then conjured a bar cart near the kitchen for all those invited that weren't fans of bubbly. 

Twenty minutes later, Ron had just finished wrapped the railing of the stairway with a garland of autumn leaves when Ginny bounded down the steps. “Are you guys ready?” Ginny asked.

The trio glanced around the flat and nodded.

Ginny exhaled in relief. “Oh, thank Merlin. Hermione, you’re free!” The Weasley raced down the steps at the sound of Hermione’s bedroom door opening and closing and rushed to Harry’s side.

“It's about time! Not having any control over what was going down here was killing me.” Hermione laughed as she descended the stairs.

The birthday girl was wearing a satin, off the shoulder scarlet dress that stopped above her knees and clung to every curve and angle of her body. Ginny had twisted Hermione’s curls into a soft updo, pinned at the nape of her neck with a diamond encrusted hair clip, and small tendrils escaped that delicately caressed her bare shoulders.

“She’s so beautiful.” Ron whispered when Hermione’s eyes landed on the four of them and Iris squeezed his arm in solidarity.

Hermione gasped as she reached the landing in her nude, suede kitten heels. “It looks beautiful! You guys, you’ve outdone yourselves.” Tears welled in the witch’s eyes as they roamed from the candles floating near the ceiling to the array of food on the dining table.

“Thank you so much." Hermione grinned and Ron rushed forward to be the one the first one to embrace her.

“Happy early birthday.” Ron said softly as he wrapped his arms around her. When he released her from his embrace, he placed one hand on her cheek and kissed her forehead.

The raw look of love on Hermione’s face at the gesture reminded Iris of the way Harry had looked at Ginny earlier.

Iris glanced at Harry and Ginny at the thought. Harry’s arm was around her waist and Ginny’s head lay on his shoulder as they gazed at Ron and Hermione who were slowly untangling themselves from each other. 

Iris smiled at her friends, overwhelmed with happiness, but also instantaneously aware of the absence of love at her side. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writer's block hit me hard with this chapter so I'm only slightly happy with how it turned out, however, the flashback in this chapter is one of my favorites because I absolutely adore Remus. 
> 
> I hope you all have a wonderful holiday. Much love. xo.


	15. A Ron Weasley Original

**September 15, 2000**

With only twenty minutes to spare before guests were set to arrive, Iris, Harry, Ginny, and Ron hurried Hermione over to the living room so they could present her with her birthday gifts.

Harry handed Hermione his gift first, a large box wrapped to perfection in shiny purple paper. The paper was thrown everywhere as Hermione didn’t waste a second ripping through it and Ron made a valiant effort to catch it as it soared through the air. Inside the box, there was a wax stamp with a wooden handle and golden seal engraved with the letters _HG._

However, the box was a bit large for just that one gift and Hermione ripped away the tissue paper the stamp had been laying upon to reveal nearly a lifetime supply of wax of various colors.

Hermione’s jaw dropped at the sight and she tackled Harry in appreciation.

“Hermione, your hair!” Ginny shrieked, untangling the witch from Harry. 

After firmly placing Hermione back on the sofa, demanding that she contain the outbursts until everyone had the chance to truly admire how beautiful she looked, Ginny went next. She handed Hermione a certificate for an all-expenses paid spa day at Madame Baudelaire’s in Paris and mentioned that a plus one was included with the gift.

Ginny winked inconspicuously at the birthday girl.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to a mud bath _either_.” Ron mumbled from beside Iris and she pinched him in the leg emitting a quiet squeal from the redhead that had her choking on laughter. 

Hermione thanked Ginny and laid the certificate safely in the box with the wax. As if on cue, Iris waved her hand towards her purse in the kitchen, using wandless magic to retrieve a velvet box from its contents and float it over to her best friend’s lap.

Hermione eyed her with intrigue as she opened the box slowly to reveal a golden charm bracelet decorated with pendants shaped into the Patronuses of Hermione’s loved ones.

A hawk for Iris.

A Jack Russell Terrier for Ron.

A stag for Harry.

A horse for Ginny.

Iris’s heart swelled as tears welled in Hermione’s eyes.

“I had the bracelet made by a Muggle jeweler near Berkeley Square and then I charmed the pendants myself. If the person the pendant represents is in danger, as we so often are, it'll pulse. If you hold the bracelet over a map while the pendant is pulsing it'll be drawn towards our location, similar to a tracking pendulum.” Iris explained. 

“Iris, it’s beautiful.” Hermione mused as she clasped the bracelet around her wrist. She held her wrist up and everyone watched as the flames of candles reflected onto the surfaces of the small pendants. “Thank you so much.”

Iris blew a kiss Hermione’s way. 

“Ron, you’re up.” Harry clapped his hands.

Ron smiled weakly and glanced at Iris for support. “So, I have a new _hobby_. It’s a bloody normal hobby, one many people enjoy in fact, but I’ve been a bit nervous, or embarrassed, or fuck even anxious to share it with you all.”

“Why would you be embarrassed?” Hermione asked.

“Well, you all know that I’ve recently started going to group therapy at St. Mungo’s and, _well_ , we’ve been discussing ways peaceful ways to relieve stress and to release any negative emotion we have pent up inside.”

“Get to the point, Ronald.” Ginny demanded in the way only a sister could.

Ron shot daggers her way. “I . . . paint.”

“You paint?” Harry asked confused. “

“Yes.” Ron threw his hands in the air. “I paint. Landscapes, usually.”

“Are you having a laugh?” Ginny arched an eyebrow.

“No, I am not having a laugh, _Ginevra_.” Ron asserted. “Painting is similar to wizard chess. The strategic placements you have to make, how the idea is fleshed out in your mind before it’s even on canvas. It reminds me of how I plan my chess moves ahead of time.”

“Oh, well that’s wonderful.” Hermione said thoughtfully. “Thank you for sharing, Ron.”

“Anything for you, ‘Mione.” Ron exhaled dramatically and then stood. “Wait just a moment, I hid your present in the guest bathroom.”

 _“Ron Weasley, the painter?”_ Ginny mouthed to Iris after Ron left their view.

Iris nodded proudly.

Ron had confided in her a month and a half ago that he’d discovered a way to channel the anger that seemed to be rooted within his bones.

After a night out drinking in Muggle pubs, Iris had crashed at George and Ron’s flat and was abruptly awakened the following morning by George screaming about the latest results of the Quidditch World Cup semifinals. Iris had been convinced that Ron was still drunk when he brought her a cup of tea and confessed his new hobby. At the time, the idea of Ron delicately holding a paint brush sounded about as likely as George growing back his left ear.

To Iris’ surprise, Ron had returned to where she was laid up on the living room sofa with a handful of canvases under his arm. Ron’s art consisted mainly of landscapes, as well as a couple renditions of the Burrow and the land that surrounded the house.

Iris had been sworn to secrecy.

She was the only one to know, besides George of course, as Ron still wasn’t sure that painting was going to become a permanent fixture in his life. Flash forward to the present and Iris knew Ron was still using art as a means of expression. . .which is why she had suggested that presenting Hermione with a _Ron Weasley original_ for her birthday was the perfect time to reveal his new hobby.

Ron returned to the living area with a large canvas under his arms, the back facing outward, and everyone’s eyes went wide.

“Now, if you hate it, just tell me. I won’t be put out, I wanted to spend more time on it but. . .” Ron looked over at Iris knowingly, his face flushed scarlet red. “I was running on a _tight_ schedule. Drying spells do wonders when you need to paint _fast_.”

Ron glanced around the room and rested his eyes on Hermione before flipping the canvas over.

The reaction throughout the room was a mixture of awestruck gasps and slack jaws. 

Despite having such limited time to paint something worthy of Hermione, Ron had pulled off a miracle. The Astronomy Tower at Hogwarts was at the forefront of the piece and a rendering of someone that was undoubtedly Hermione stood at very top of it.

The figure of Hermione leaned over the railing and looked upwards towards the night sky that was decorated with stars. Most importantly, the planets of the Solar System were among the stars and were in the exact positions they could be found when looking through Professor Sinistra’s telescope. 

A hushed silence permeated throughout the room as Hermione ran her eyes up and down the canvas. Ron’s face was red with the embarrassment that came with revealing something so personal and he grinned weakly at everyone in the room.

“If I’d had more time, I was planning on adding more detail to the Tower and maybe a few more stars. I even thought about including that hideous cat of yours. . .” Ron rambled but was cut off abruptly as Hermione rushed to him and placed her hands on his cheeks.

“It’s perfect. Don’t change a thing.” She declared before kissing Ron softly on the lips.

Ron’s jaw dropped in surprise as Hermione kneeled down to examine the painting from a closer view and he looked to Iris and mouthed, _“I owe you one.”_

Iris winked at the redhead and then the thunderous chime of Hermione’s grandfather clock interrupted the moment, alerting the group that their guests would be arriving any second. 

Hermione rushed upstairs to place the gifts safely in her bedroom and by the time she returned downstairs, there was knock on the front door. Ron met Hermione at the entrance to the flat to greet the guests, the pair looking every bit the couple they used to be.

Ginny, Harry and Iris remained seated in the living room and Iris waved a tray of champagne over.

Luna arrived first in a sleeveless, high neck icy blue gown that flowed around her ankles. Her short platinum blonde hair hovered above her shoulders in loose waves and a silver circlet wrapped around her head.

Neville followed close behind in a tweed sport coat with elbow patches. Surprisingly, not far behind Neville, were Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan.

At the sight of the Seamus and Dean, who Hermione hugged briefly with a perplexed look on her face, Iris looked pointedly at Harry. He had also noticed the pair and was eyeing Iris and Ginny cautiously over the rim of his champagne flute.

“Hex me now.” Ginny groaned once she noticed Dean.

“Who invited those two?” Iris grumbled, a finger tapping against her glass. 

Seamus had an almost dangerous history of being infatuated with Iris and had earned a permanent place on her shit list when he had spread around Gryffindor that Harry was lying about the return of Voldemort. Dean, on the other hand, well she just thought he had the personality of a wet sponge. 

Harry downed the rest of the bubbly in his glass and then said, “Dean overheard me talking to Ron about the party and I didn’t have the heart to tell him he wasn’t invited.”

“For Merlin’s sake Harry, why didn’t you invite Michael Corner while you were at it? Then I could’ve been reunited with all of my exes.” Ginny huffed as she stood. “I need something stronger.” She handed Harry her champagne flute and stormed off towards the bar cart.

“Gin.” Harry called after her, but she didn’t turn around.

“Let her get some vodka in her system and she’ll be fine.” Iris declared, trying to wipe the look of desperation off his face. “I, however, might murder you for not demanding that Dean arrive without his _ball in chain_.”

“Wherever Dean goes, Seamus goes, and we used to be good friends when we were younger. I didn’t have-”

“You didn’t have the heart to refuse, yeah, yeah, I get it you marshmallow.” Iris rolled her eyes as she downed the rest of the champagne in her glass.

“Take it easy.” Harry scolded her as he stood to greet their old friends. “You’re turning into a bit of lush.” He teased as he walked by her and she kicked him in the shin, leaving glitter from her heel on the leg of his trousers.

Iris emptied the flute the second it had finished filling, partially because of Harry’s comment, and then used the bit of liquid courage she had acquired to join everyone else in the huddle that was forming near the kitchen.

She caught up with Neville first as she had a work-related request to make before she could truly relax.

After politely asking over each other’s health and work, Iris waved her free hand and used wandless magic to float over two envelopes she had placed in her purse earlier that the day.

“ _Neville_. Can you do me a favor?” She asked as the envelopes landed in her palm.

“Oh no.” Neville’s eye flashed towards the envelopes in panic. “I will _not_ let you wrap me in whatever grand scheme you’ve concocted.” He backed away, undoubtedly reliving the numerous occasions Iris had involved him in her mischievous activity at Hogwarts.

“Do you really think so little of me?” She pouted. “When you go back to Hogwarts, tonight or tomorrow _morning_ . . .” Iris subtly nodded towards Luna and Neville’s face went red. “I just need you to deliver these letters to Slughorn and McGonagall. Hand delivery will be faster than using an owl.”

Neville scrutinized her. “What are you up to?”

“I’m just asking to meet with them, that’s all. Please Neville, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

Iris was deliberately leaving out the fact that Draco would be accompanying her on this trip to Hogwarts.

Neville groaned in annoyance as he plucked the envelopes from her hand and slid them into the inner pocket of his sport coat. “This is going to cost you a trip through the greenhouse. I’m dying to show off my latest growth of _Venomous Tentacula.”_

Iris screamed inwardly.

Herbology had been the one subject at Hogwarts that she had found coma-inducing.

“Of course, Neville. Of course.” Iris kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.”

Neville’s face returned to a shade of crimson at the feel of Iris’ lips on his cheek and she held back a grin as she took another swig of champagne.

Another knock at the front door signified the arrival of more guests and Hermione swung the front door open to reveal George Weasley, in an obnoxiously large bowtie decorated with Fanged Frisbees. At George’s side were Lee Jordan, Angelina Johnson, Oliver Wood, and Katie Bell.

Iris exclaimed loudly at the sight of some of her old Quidditch teammates and pushed past George and Lee who mentioned being treated like chopped liver. 

With the arrival of the last of the guests, the evening erupted into celebration. Conversation flowed, alcohol was poured, and Ron refused to take a breath for a solid five minutes as he shoved dish after dish into his mouth.

Iris learned that Katie’s cousin was a Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies and nearly shoved the girl towards Ginny so the redhead could get a good word in. At Katie’s absence, Oliver had returned to Angelina’s side and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. Iris’ eyes widened at the action and then she almost fainted when Angelina pointed out her ring finger and Iris saw the diamond resting there.

She knew George and Angelina weren’t together anymore but Angelina and Oliver? Angelina and Oliver engaged? She congratulated them and downed more champagne.

After Neville was rightfully applauded for baking Hermione's birthday cake, Ginny snapped her fingers and lit the twenty-one candles. In typical Hermione fashion, she blew out the candles before they could begin singing to her, desperate to avoid the chorus of off-key and tone-deaf voices.

As the night continued, Iris dodged opportunities to acknowledge Dean and Seamus. 

If she were sober, she _might_ have made an attempt at small talk but the rising warmth within her cheeks was the first indication of the effect the champagne was beginning to have on her. Her flute had refilled at least five or six times, maybe more, and she did not need to get fired up around Seamus with alcohol in her system.

Nor did she want to die of boredom speaking with Dean.

She found a spot next to Luna on one of the living room sofas, she was dying to catch up with her, and had just opened her mouth to speak when another knock at the front door caught everyone’s attention.

An immediate silence fell over the flat.

“Oh! I didn’t think she would actually come.” Hermione exclaimed excitedly from the kitchen. 

Iris watched as Hermione leaned off a counter and rushed towards the front door. She swung open the door to reveal Pansy Parkinson standing in the hallway, a bottle of wine in her hands and a cautious grin plastered on her face.

“Happy early birthday.” Pansy waved the bottle in her hands. “I brought the good stuff.”

Iris gulped and glanced around the room as Hermione shut the door behind Pansy and ushered her towards the mass of witches and wizards. Her appearance had caused a wave of wide eyes and curled lips but the look of pure hatred on Seamus’ face is what made Iris’ stomach turn.

“What is _she_ doing here?” Seamus sneered.

“I invited her. It is _my_ party after all.” Hermione shot daggers Seamus’ way. “Pansy is working with me on the House-Elf sanctuary project.”

“I’m just here to celebrate Granger and get drunk.” Pansy held one hand up in surrender. 

“I can get behind that.” Harry seemingly appeared out of thin air and retrieved the wine bottle from Pansy’s hands. “Let’s get you a glass for this.” He wiggled the bottle and ushered Pansy to follow him to the kitchen. 

Iris had known Harry for years, but she still found herself impressed by his ability to control a room. At the sight of his acceptance of Pansy’s presence, and out of the fear of what Hermione may do to them if they provoked her, the tension within the flat eased and conversation resumed, albeit slowly, with the occasional suspicious glance towards the Slytherin in the kitchen.

Iris promised to return to Luna shortly and then stood and rushed over towards Harry, Hermione, and Pansy. Harry was pouring Pansy a glass of wine as she was in the midst of an apology for trying to give him up to Voldemort during the Battle of Hogwarts.

“I’d probably do it again, but I am sorry.” Pansy said as she grabbed the glass from his hand. “I mean you did make it out alive regardless.”

Harry laughed as he set the bottle down. “I’ll take it.”

Iris leaned against one of the counters as she came into their view. “Parkinson.”

“Sinclair.” Pansy narrowed her eyes and took a step towards her. “Come to jinx me again, have you? The Curse-Breaker who freed me left an enormous bald spot on the right side of my head. I had to spend half of my rent on a hair growth potion.”

Pansy’s hair was longer than Iris had ever seen it, the strands stopping right above her collarbones. She was dressed in a long sleeve, silver top that glittered under the flames of the candles and revealed a dangerous amount of her chest. A pair of black leather leggings clung to her legs like a second skin and she towered over Iris in black stilettos.

“Did you really think I would let years of bullying get brushed under the rug without some kind of payback?” Iris smirked as she sipped her champagne. “And I think your hair looks better this way, the bob was very nineties.”

Pansy glared at her and took large swig of her wine.

She held out the glass towards Harry. “Potter, more.”

Harry hurriedly poured the wine just as George Weasley bounded over and weaved his way in-between Iris and Pansy. With a glass of whiskey in one hand and a mischievous grin plastered on his face, Iris could tell George was up to no good.

“Be still my heart.” George’s grin widened as his eyes drank in every inch of Pansy. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

Pansy’s lips curled in disgust. “A Weasley.”

“That’s right.” George laid his glass on the counter and those huddled in kitchen watched in astonishment as he kneeled down and took Pansy’s free hand in one of his. “Milady, where have you been my entire life?” 

“Out of your league.” Pansy asserted as she snatched her hand from George’s. “Potter, I’m going to need the whole bottle after all.”

Pansy stuck her free hand out and Harry handed her the wine bottle. The witch, with a glass of wine in one hand and the bottle in another, eyed George with horrified curiosity as she maneuvered around him and made a beeline for the living room.

George stood and sighed. “Love at first sight _is_ real. I’ve been bewitched.”

“It’s not first sight.” Iris stated baffled. “You went to school with her for _five_ years. She followed Malfoy around like a lost puppy? Ring any bells?” 

“That's not possible.” George stated as he watched Pansy take the spot next to Luna on the sofa. Luna conjured a copy of the Quibbler out of thin air and preceded to point to various passages on the front page to Pansy. “I would have noticed a _Veela_ walking among us.”

“She’s not a _Veela_.” Harry facepalmed.

“Pansy Weasley has quite the ring to it, don’t you think? Or George Parkinson?” George grinned as he scooped his whiskey off the counter. “Wish me luck kids.” He winked at Iris, Hermione, and Harry and they burst into laughter as they watched the horror on Pansy’s face grow as George made his way determinedly towards her. 

It was nearing on midnight by the time Iris found her way back to Luna.

“Luna, I must tell you that you look positively _ethereal_ tonight.” Iris declared, her fantastical language influenced by the eight glasses of champagne in her system.

“Oh, thank you. I sewed the dress with fabric from an old curtain and the circlet is made from melted down spoons.” Luna mused, her eyes twinkling. “How are you? The Quibbler doesn’t have a gossip section, but I’d have to be blind not to notice the headlines our competitors are running.”

Iris’ heart pounded in her chest as there was only thing Luna could be referring to. The memory of Draco behind the piano flashed across her mind as she said, “I’m sorry Luna, I don’t follow.”

Luna squeezed Iris’ hand. “When you’re invisible, none notice your presence, and thus you become an ocean of information as you observe more than others ever wished you to see.”

“Luna.” Iris’ brow furrowed. “Why do I get the feeling you need to tell me something?”

The conversation was cut short as Seamus’ distinct Irish accent rang throughout the flat.

“Potter, did I just hear right? Are you training Draco _fucking_ Malfoy to be an Auror?”

Cold chills shot down Iris’ spine.

“Oh, Seamus.” Luna whispered as she released Iris’ hand.

Harry, who had been leaning against the stairway with Ginny, cleared his throat and stood straight. “Yes, Seamus, I am. Is there a problem?”

"Damn straight there’s a problem.” Seamus shouted from near the dining table. “I held my tongue for Hermione over Parkinson but I draw the line at _Auror Malfoy_. He should still be rotting in Azkaban alongside his bastard father. Have you forgotten your life before your fancy office at the Ministry? Have you forgotten that the man you're training to protect the Wizarding community worked alongside Voldemort?" 

Iris' eyes flicked over to Pansy.

The witch was watching the interaction from the bay window with calculative interest. 

"How dare you?" Ginny spat from beside Harry. 

“I will never forget.” Harry gritted through his teeth. “People change Seamus and I don’t have to explain my the reasonings behind my decisions to _you_.”

Seamus looked around for support. “He was a Death Eater! He IS a bloody Death Eater! How is it that I’m the only one speaking up? Or are the rest of you too weak to stand up for yourselves?”

Iris had heard enough and her grip tightened around her flute as she stood. “Get the fuck out.”

Seamus narrowed his eyes at her. “If you were smart, you’d keep your mouth shut, Sinclair.”

“Seamus.” Dean hissed in warning. "Let's go." He pleaded as he clasped his hand on his best friend's shoulder.

That should've been the end of it. 

Unfortunately the champagne in Iris' veins had other ideas.

“No, wait.” Iris held her hand up and the pair stopped in their tracks close to the front door. “Tell me Seamus, why should I keep my mouth shut? Or did you say that simply because you’re still resentful that I refused to drink the love potion you tried to slip me when we were sixteen?”

Seamus whirled around at her words, his face red with fury. “Fuck you, Iris. You act so high and mighty but everyone in this room knows that your loyalty shifted the day Malfoy ran his hands up your skirt."

Iris' face flushed at his words and Seamus laughed at her discomfort before continuing. "Oh yeah, you may have thought you hid it well but blimey _everyone_ knew what was going on with you two. _The Other Golden Girl_ and _Voldemort's Newest Recruit_ snogging in the darkest corners of the castle. Was being called a Mudblood foreplay for you?"

"What is wrong with you?" Dean hissed and he shoved Seamus further towards the front door. 

"Watch your fucking mouth." Ron's face was flushed with anger.

Iris' eyes flicked towards Ron, worried that things were about to turn physical, and she inwardly sighed in relief at the sight of Hermione's arm wrapped tightly around Ron's waist.

"Get. Out." Iris redirected her gaze on Seamus. 

"I'm out." Seamus held his hands up in surrender and trailed after Dean who was waiting for him at the open front door.

The conversation seemed to be at an end until Seamus turned on his heel before crossing the threshold and met Iris' eyes once more. "It’s a shame the Ministry banished the Dementors from Azkaban before Malfoy was imprisoned. He would've been the model candidate for the Dementor's Kiss.”

Iris saw red as the beat of her heart roared in her ears.

And then the champagne flute shattered in her hand. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My writer's block has been conquered and the proof of that will be on Thursday when I post Chapter 15 for you lovely humans. The lack of our favorite blond menace in this chapter will be made up for in Chapter 15, I've written most of it so far and I can't wait to share it. 
> 
> The playlist is ready! I'll be adding more songs as the story continues! https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1Bp99yi6IBuysBiUmqGwWA?si=4_lgw0gPRc6EQe_OvDpC0Q
> 
> Much love. xo.


	16. Push and Pull

**September 16, 2000 (Midnight)**

The shards of the champagne flute sliced into her palm and scattered around the living room. Iris’ mind was a fog of alcohol and anger and it numbed the pain of the cuts that were now trailing blood down her hand.

Iris was deaf to the voices of others nearby. The constriction of her throat and the ringing in her ears were prominent as she bore her eyes into Seamus who was hovering around the threshold of Hermione’s front door.

 _“Oppugno.”_ She incanted breathlessly and the small shards of glass that had fallen to floor rose in the air around her and darted in Seamus’ direction. Not caring whether her intended target was hit or not, Iris sank to the floor and clutched her injured hand. She watched as the blood dripped down wrist and slowly disappeared underneath the sleeve of her dress.

 _“Immobulus!”_ was shouted by Hermione as she attempted to stop the shards on their path to Seamus.

Most of the shards fell to the floor at her spell but a couple pieces escaped her purview, and they struck the wooden doorframe of the front door jarringly. Seamus’ face, mere centimeters away, was the image of shock and he winced as his fingers reached up to feel the cut that was forming underneath his eye.

However miniscule the damage, Iris had hit her target.

“That bitch tried to kill me!” Seamus exclaimed.

His voice came to Iris as if she was underwater and he was screaming at her from the surface. The sound of rushing footsteps from far away indicated that Seamus had bolted with Dean and the resounding thud of the front door slamming shut raised goosebumps on her arms. The floor beneath her was beginning to spin and she felt close to vomiting, the only thing keeping her from doing so was focusing on her injuries.

Hands gripped her shoulders and Iris looked up at the touch.

“Get up, Sinclair.” Pansy Parkinson demanded. Her brown eyes showed no hint of pity and her pouted lips were set in a determined line. “Granger, where’s your antiseptic?” Pansy shouted over her shoulder as she gripped Iris’ arms and brought her to her feet.

“Upstairs, the bathroom connected to my bedroom.” Hermione pushed away from Ron. “I’ll show you.”

“No. I’ll take care of her.” Pansy said as she led Iris towards the stairs and pointed at various partygoers. “Weasley, get the birthday girl a drink, something _strong_. Longbottom, clean up the glass and Potter, get the blood out of that rug it looks expensive. Ginny . . .” Pansy stared knowingly at the redhead. “Have a martini waiting for me when I get back.”

"She just called me Ginny." Ginny mumbled awestruck and to no one in particular. 

“Y-you smell like vanilla.” Iris hiccupped as Pansy led her up the stairs. “Like the vanilla bean cream puffs the House-Elves used to make at school. D-do you remember those? I wish I could have some right now.”

Pansy snorted. “Gregory and Draco used to inhale those. Draco always ended up with . . .”

“The cream on his nose.” Iris exhaled. “I-I know.”

Pansy avoided Iris’ eyes and the rest of trek to the bathroom was spent in silence.

Iris watched Pansy closely as the witch wiped a cloth soaked with antiseptic against the cuts on her palm. The sting from the antiseptic had helped clear the cloud that had formed around her mind and fortunately her stomach had settled. The last thing she wanted to do was hold her head over a toilet while Pansy Parkinson held her hair back.

“You did a number on yourself with this one.” Pansy mumbled as she held the cloth against Iris’ hand. “I do wish Finnigan’s head had been the one exploding instead of the champagne flute.”

“That would’ve been quite the party trick.” Iris winced as the antiseptic worked through the cuts and burned away any hint of infection. “I’ll remember to use _Bombarda_ next time.”

“Does that happen often?” Pansy asked.

“Does what?” Iris met her eyes.

“The anger. Do you lose control like that often?”

“No. I mean I’ve always had a short temper but after the War. . .” Iris frowned and massaged her temple. “Let’s just say I’m having trouble adjusting.” 

“We all are.” Pansy eyed her before removing the cloth. “I should be able to cast _Episkey_ now.”

“No.”

“No?” Pansy arched an eyebrow.

“Wrap it with a bandage. I want it to heal the Muggle way.”

“Are you sure? It might scar.”

“Yes, I’m sure.” Iris motioned towards the sink. “Hermione keeps a few in the sink drawer.”

Pansy moved from Iris and retrieved a gauze bandage. She kneeled in front of Iris and as she rolled the bandage around her palm, blood began to pepper the white cloth as pressure was once again applied to the cuts. 

“Sinclair, I-” Pansy exhaled. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Iris asked taken aback.

“I don’t think I could list it all out if I tried.” Pansy laughed faintly as she finished wrapping Iris’ bandage, taping it off. “I guess this is my half-assed attempt at trying to apologize for being such a ruthless bitch while we were growing up. I wish I could say it was from jealousy, but it wasn’t. I was cruel because I wanted to be. I had everything, I even thought I had Draco, and I enjoyed the power of feeling superior to others.”

Iris’ eyes followed Pansy as she stood. “It took losing Draco, losing my parents, losing our home, losing the power that was associated with Parkinson name, for me to realize that I was as susceptible to change and loss as any other witch or wizard. I realized, that in the grand scheme of life, being a Pureblood means nothing in the end. It’s just blood.”

“Just _blood_.” Iris repeated. “It may be just blood, but my blood has determined my entire existence for the past decade. I accept your apology Pansy, because I can hear the sincerity in your voice, but you will never understand the challenges I face for simply being Muggle-Born. Being a Pureblood does not mean nothing because you had, and still have, privileges that I will never.”

Pansy’s face revealed nothing of how she felt about Iris’ words. “You are _The Other Golden Girl_. Harry Potter’s best friend. The witch that helped save the world. If you don’t see the privilege that comes that, you must be blind.”

Pansy threw the cloth that she had been using to clean Iris’ cuts into the sink and slammed the bathroom door shut behind her. 

Iris waited another ten minutes before descending downstairs quietly.

She was surprised to hear cheerful chatter floating up the stairs and the sound of laughter relieved some of the heavy weight on her chest. When she rounded about the landing, she was greeted with the sight of the remaining guests gathered in the living room passing around a bottle of scotch.

Pansy’s fingers played delicately around the rim of a martini glass.

“There’s the champ.” Ron noticed her first and applauded her with a toothy grin. “How’s your battle scars?”

Everyone’s heads turned in Iris’ direction and she froze as numerous pairs of eyes glued to her out of worry and curiosity. Iris almost cried out in relief when Hermione jumped off the sofa and rushed over towards her. 

Hermione placed her hands on Iris’ forearms. “Are you alright? Everyone was so worried.”

“Yes, I’m fine.” Iris could feel the tears welling in her eyes. “I’m sorry I ruined the party Hermione I didn’t mean to-”

“Stop right there.” Hermione cut her off and Iris closed her mouth promptly. “You did not ruin the party. Do you know how many hot-headed Gryffindors were crammed into this flat tonight? I’m surprised drinks didn’t start flying earlier.”

“But the blood, and the . . .” Iris made a whooshing motion with her arm to represent the shards flying through the air.

“It added a little spice to the evening is all.” Hermione waved it off. “But I have to ask again, _are you alright?_ It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you lose control like that.”

She wasn’t alright but she didn’t want to worry her best friend. It wasn’t the outburst that was bothering her, it was the cause of the outburst. The emotion that had risen because of the words Seamus had thrown her way.

“I promise, I’m alright.” Iris pulled Hermione into a hug, knowing that the witch would be able to see the lie in her eyes if she looked closely.

Hermione squeezed her back tightly and Iris looked over Hermione’s shoulder at the group gathered in the living room.

Ron was sitting in-between Harry and Ginny, his hands flying about animatedly as he described what he would’ve done to Seamus if it wasn’t against the tenants of his anger management program. Angelina was sitting with her back to the couch as she affectionately run her hands through Oliver’s hair who was lying with his head in her lap, Lee sat next to them begging for a head massage of his own. 

Luna and Neville were wrapped up in another, whispering about each other’s plans for the rest of the evening, while Pansy sipped on her martini and did her best to ignore George’s efforts at trying to make conversation with her.

Hermione pulled away from Iris and gripped her uninjured hand. “Come join us, the night’s not over. No one is angry with about Seamus, Katie only left because she has a train to Liverpool to catch in the morning.” 

Iris glanced over the group once more.

Their night wasn’t over but hers was.

“I need sleep. I’ve sobered up enough now I should be fine to Apparate home.” Iris said and Hermione pouted instantaneously. “Let’s have tea in the morning. We can meet in the Alley and buy a lot of things we don’t need.”

“That sounds very impractical.” Hermione said thoughtfully. “But I’m in.” 

Iris smiled at her and kissed Hermione on the cheek. After saying goodbye to everyone else, as well as ignoring a concerned remark from Harry, Iris gathered her things and walked all the way down to the outside of Hermione’s building before Apparating home.

When she appeared outside the front door of 12 Grimmauld Place, Iris searched through her purse for her wand and found it beside a suspicious bottle of Firewhiskey. She grabbed the bottle out of her purse in confusion and found a sticky note stuck to it.

_A couple shots would do you good._

_George._

“Who needs a guardian angel when you have a Weasley?” Iris mumbled before sitting down on the front doorsteps and twisting open the bottle.

A few swigs later, Iris stumbled through the entryway of the townhome. She was buzzed again, her lack of sufficient motor skills were evident of that, but she wasn’t past the point of awareness. As she placed her uninjured hand against the wall to steady herself, the faint sound of the piano reverberated throughout the townhome.

Kreacher didn’t have a musical bone in his body and the last person Iris had seen at the piano was . . .

“Oh no. No, no, no. Go to bed.” Iris demanded of herself as she neared the stairway. “Just _go to bed.”_

The music intensified when she placed her hand on the railing as if it could sense her getting farther away. 

“Oh, it does sound nice.” Iris sighed as she pushed off the railing, her purse fell to the floor beside the staircase. No one ever played on the piano in the parlor and the sound of it calmed her bones. Maybe, just for a minute . . .

“I’ll be in and out.” She declared to no one but herself and through clumsy movements, and feeble attempts at avoiding the sharp edges of furniture, Iris found herself near the entrance of the parlor.

Draco Malfoy was seated at the piano, dressed comfortably in a white tee shirt and grey joggers. His eyes were closed as he focused on the music, seemingly in a trance as he played what Iris recognized as a piece by Johannes Brahms.

Iris stepped over the threshold into the parlor. At the sound of her heels clicking against the wooden floor, Draco’s fingers stalled on the piano keys and his eyes opened to slowly meet hers across the room.

“Oh, don’t s-stop on my account.” Iris hiccupped as she crossed her arms. “The music is what distracted me from my very comfortable bed upstairs.” 

Draco’s lips curled up on side. “Was it the music? Or the alcohol in your blood?” 

Iris frowned. “I only had a couple sips of F-Firewhiskey.”

“Your hiccups say otherwise.” A smirk appeared on Draco’s face, but it was replaced with near lethal intensity as his eyes focused on her bandaged hand.

“Iris, what happened to your hand?”

She lazily glanced towards her injured hand. “Oh this? It’s nothing, I did it to myself.”

“What?” He exclaimed. “Get over here, let me have a look.”

“No.” She scoffed. “P-Pansy took care of it, I’m _fine_.” 

“Pansy?” Draco furrowed his brow. “Iris, come here.” 

It took all of the strength Iris had to not rush towards him the second he beckoned her over. After the events of the night, she felt raw and on display. In the past Draco had been the perfect remedy for that.

They do say old habits die hard.

She exhaled in resignation and clutched her injured hand as she made her way over to him. She sat close enough to him on the piano bench that he’d be able to get an adequate look at her but also far enough away that she still felt comfortable. 

“Thank you.” Draco said sounding surprised.

Iris rolled her eyes and stuck out her hand. Draco grabbed it gently with one of his own and unraveled the bandage that had been decorated with dots of blood since Pansy had first tended to it. He hissed at the sight of the shallow cuts on her palm and then rewrapped the bandage.

“How did it happen?” It was more of a demand and less of a question.

“Uh . . .” Iris slid her eyes towards the ceiling. “Seamus Finnigan said something idiotic, _as per usual_. I fell into the trap, _as per usual_. Then my temper got the better of me and my champagne flute exploded in my hand.”

“In your hand?” Draco’s eyes went wide. ““What did he say to you?”

“That’s not important.”

“Iris.” He said . . . still holding her hand.

She sighed at his use of her name and met his eyes. “He said something about you . . . something I didn’t like.”

“Hmph.” He regarded her, watching her with curiosity. He ran his fingers delicately across the bandages wrapped around her palm and her breath hitched in her throat. “You’re letting it heal without magic?

“Obviously.” She answered assertively and Draco rolled his eyes at her tone. “Pansy was the one that cleaned the cuts for me. Hermione invited her and Seamus wasn’t exactly thrilled to have her around. . .”

“A snake in the lion’s den.” He released her hand and tore his eyes from hers to refocus on the piano keys. “I see how tempers flared so quickly.”

“Well, Luna Lovegood was there, so _technically_ an eagle and a snake in a lion’s den.”

“I stand corrected.” Draco chuckled and positioned his fingers above the piano keys. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I planned on playing more Brahms before bed.” He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “You can stay, if you’d like.”

Iris hesitated but answered with, “I would like.”

Without another word, Draco closed his eyes and resumed the piece he had been playing before she walked in. She watched as his long, slender fingers pressed down the keys and her eyes were glued to the movement, as well as the veins that protruded in his hands. He moved swiftly with purpose and pressed harder on the keys than Brahms may have intended when writing the piece.

The music cleared the fog of the alcohol that surrounded her, the notes and Draco’s intoxicating presence diminishing the effect of the Firewhiskey in her veins. She scooted closer to Draco, close enough that their thighs touched, so she could feel the vibrations of the music through him.

Draco’s hands stalled on the keys and his eyes slid down towards their touching bodies.

“Why’d you stop?” She asked.

“Give me your hand.” His eyes flicked towards her uninjured one. “The one without the bandage.”

Iris eyed him suspiciously and then placed her hand in his. He led her fingers towards the piano keys, placed his hand on top of hers, and then pressed down on the key with the weight of his fingers on hers.

Iris grinned as the note coursed through her and Draco continued.

Manipulating her hand slowly while his other played flawlessly, Iris was able to feel the music for herself _with_ Draco, instead of through him. It was a heart achingly intimate moment that she knew she would scold herself for in the morning.

It was reminiscent of their stolen moments at Hogwarts. The brief instances of intimacy that they only had when they were alone and when he was craving it as badly as she was. Her foolish heart had never let her consider how horribly all of that secrecy would scar her.

The last note thundered through the parlor and Iris and Draco exhaled deeply together. He had yet to release her hand when he turned his head to face her, his nose mere centimeters from hers.

“We should do that more often.” Iris said softly.

“We should?” Draco asked softly as removed her hand from the piano keys and laid it on her knee.

“Yes.” Iris’ breath hitched in her throat as he his hand left hers and moved up her thigh.

His grey eyes burned into her, searching for answers in her hazel ones. His face was flushed; she was unsure of whether it was from the exertion of manipulating her hand while controlling his own, or because of their close proximity. 

“Is this alright?” His eyes flicked down to his hand.

The feeling of his hand on her bare thigh made her heart pound.

Seamus’ words from earlier rang through her mind.

_You act so high and mighty but everyone in this room knows that your loyalty shifted the day Malfoy ran his hands up your skirt._

Seamus’ words held an inkling of truth. Her loyalty never shifted, but the feeling of Draco’s hands all over her was an addiction. An addiction that she had been in withdrawal from for far too long.

“Yes.” She answered again.

He leaned in closer, the gap that separated the two of them minimizing dangerously. “I couldn’t bear to look at you earlier. I know you noticed, and I apologize sincerely, but it's almost painful to be in a room with you when look this beautiful and I can’t do something about it.”

“And what do you want to do?” She nuzzled his nose with hers.

He chuckled softly before bringing his mouth to her neck. “I think that’s better left unsaid.” He whispered the words onto her skin and Iris closed her eyes at the feeling of his warm breath on her neck.

In hindsight, she was appreciative of the interruption that occurred moments later.

“Draco?” A soft voice whispered from the corridor.

Iris’ eyes shot towards the archway that led into the parlor and the trance the music and his touch had put her in was broken instantaneously. She shoved Draco’s hand off her thigh and stood abruptly, soft footsteps audible to her ears now that she was out of her trance.

She maneuvered away from the piano, leaning instead against the wall behind her, as Astoria Greengrass crossed the threshold into the parlor her feet bare against the hardwood floor. 

The witch was drowning in a black jumper that reached the tops of her knees and her long, platinum tresses were thrown over one shoulder. The sight of her in such little clothing, and the meaning that held, was enough for bile to rise in Iris’ throat.

“There you are. I’ve been upstairs for an hour waiting for you.” Astoria smiled sweetly at Draco.

Astoria’s eyes glanced towards Iris, noticing her for the first time since entering the room, and she placed a hand over heart in surprise. “Oh, Iris I didn’t see you there! I thought I heard the front door but I didn’t hear anyone come up the stairs.”

“I was about to go to bed, but I heard the piano and I wanted to check it out.” Iris tried her hardest to calm the shaking of her voice. “I apologize if I was loud, I didn’t know we had _guests._ ”

“Astoria, I’ll be up in a moment.” Draco stood abruptly when he noticed the shift in Iris’ tone. “I’ll bring you a cup of tea. Chamomile or Valerian Root?”

“Valerian would be wonderful. No sugar.” Astoria turned on her heel to leave. "It was nice to see you again, Iris."

At Astoria's absence, Iris and Draco were plunged into silence.

Draco drummed his fingers on the top of the piano while Iris leaned against the wall, unclenching and clenching her jaw. She had half a mind to retreat upstairs without a word but she was frozen in place. Her eyes focused instead on the constant drumming of his fingers, the sound thundering in her mind.

_One, two, three, four._

_Pinky, ring, middle, pointer._

_One, two, three, four._

_Pinky, ring . . ._

“I see nothing has changed.” Iris began as she pushed off the wall. “Except now the woman keeping your bed warm is Astoria instead of Pansy and I’m in the same position I always have been, albeit temporarily and by mistake.”

“Mistake?” Draco’s fingers halted their drumming and he maneuvered away from the piano bench to face her. “And that is not what’s happening here.”

“That is exactly what’s happening here.” Iris stepped forward and stared him down. “And to think you tried to convince me only yesterday that she was just a friend.”

“She is just a friend. If you cared to ask before you jumped to conclusions, I would’ve explained to you why she's even here.” He scrutinized her. “For someone that insists on not being jealous, you seek reassurance from me that is far past the point of being just friends.”

“As always, you have read the situation entirely wrong.” Iris shouted. “I don’t need reassurance. I’m merely a woman looking out for another because I know what it feels like to be played by you.”

“I never played you.”

“What would you call it then? Because all I can remember is how desperate you were to keep the fact that you liked snogging a _Mudblood_ a secret from your cronies and your family.”

“Don’t call yourself that.” He stepped towards her.

“Why? You did. Only once but I will never forget it. You reminded me and every other Muggle-Born at Hogwarts just what you thought of our blood status day after day.”

“And I will apologize for that for the rest of my life.”

“That still won’t be long enough.”

Draco threw his hands in the air. “Fuck Iris, what do you want from me?”

“I don’t want anything from you. I’m your mentor, for the time being, and we are roommates.”

“That is a lie, and you know it.” Draco pointed at her accusingly. “Otherwise, we wouldn’t have found ourselves in this old push and pull routine so easily. I push, you pull. You push, I pull. It’s how we work. It’s how we’ve always worked.”

“Shut up.” Iris stepped forward and the gap between them grew even smaller.

“No.” He growled. “Answer the question. What do you want from me?”

“I don’t know!” Iris’ felt like her heart was beating out of her chest.

Draco narrowed his eyes. “Then kiss me.”

“Excuse me?” Iris’ lips curled enraged.

“You heard me. Kiss me.” He declared. “Kiss me and we figure this out. Kiss me and if you feel nothing, then you’ll have proven me wrong and I’ll never question your intentions again.”

“Absolutely not.”

His lips quirked up on one side. “You’re afraid.”

“Afraid of you? You think too highly of yourself.”

“No.” He said close enough that Iris could feel his breath. “You’re afraid of not being in control. Afraid of not being in control of yourself, other people, your dreams, your _desires_.” 

Iris’ face warmed. “You know nothing about my desires.”

“We both know that’s not true.” Draco crooned before placing his palm flat against the small of her back and pulling her towards him. She placed her palms flat against his chest as an automatic defense and Draco smirked at the gesture.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” He leaned in closer and rubbed his nose against hers.

He was there, hers for the taking. All she needed to do was lean up and their lips would touch for the first time in years. She knew she should break away, run upstairs, and pretend as if this never happened. But if she did that, she would never know. She would never know if it was simply the last drop of teenage infatuation that thrummed within her veins whenever she looked at him or if it was something else . . .

“Fuck it.” Iris whispered as she smashed her mouth against his so harshly she felt her teeth rattle. 

A fire ignited the second their lips touched, and, after a brief moment of frozen disbelief, Draco kissed her back hungrily. One hand still rested on the small of her back pushing her flush against him, the other curled around the nape of her neck, his thumb pressing roughly into her jaw. 

His lips were as soft as she remembered, the feel of his mouth slanted against hers so familiar it strained her heartstrings. She slid her hands from his chest up into his hair and, with her uninjured hand, she tugged at the silky platinum strands roughly.

He groaned at the gesture and the sound reverberated into her mouth, the vibrations thrumming within her bones.

Her eyes shot open as he tore his lips from hers.

“That wasn’t very nice.” He hissed as he rested his forehead against hers.

Breathlessly she responded, “And what are you going to do about it?”

His lips curled into a smirk and his pupils nearly encompassed his irises from desire as his hands slid to the dips of her waist and lifted her off the floor. She squeaked in surprise as he turned her around and set her down on the key block of the piano, the music released from the keys piercing her eardrums as he reattached his lips to hers fervently.

He slid a hand up her chest and pressed his palm so firmly against one of her breasts that she gasped, the opening of her mouth allowing their tongues to reunite for the first time in years. The taste of him electrified her nerves and she twisted her arms around his neck to pull him closer, wanting to continue the feeling for as long as he’d let her.

His knee nudged against her closed legs, begging her to open up but she refused.

Iris ran her teeth along his bottom lip before biting down gently and he growled at the gesture, the hum of it blooming within her. She ached from longing, the rising heat within her core reminding her of the effect Draco had on her body as his hands slid to the tops of her thighs and squeezed, his fingers digging into her skin with desperation.

A reluctant whimper left her lips as his mouth left hers once more.

He planted kisses from the apple of her cheek down to her neck and she leaned her head back against the piano to give him full access. Her breath hitched as he ran his teeth against the sensitive skin there, suckling at the spots that he remembered drove her wild.

She opened her legs of her own accord and felt him grin against her neck as his leg found purchase in-between her thighs, the pressure upon the keys of the piano the only sound besides their mingled heavy breathing.

He ran his tongue along the marks he’d left, and she released her arms from around his neck—her hands found the hem of his tee-shirt and dove underneath to rest on his bare skin. He groaned as her fingers traced the muscles of his abdomen and his hands slid up her thighs, pushing back the velvet fabric of her dress.

He pressed his body firmly upon her, the weight of him releasing the anxiety that resided within her chest. His lips brushed along her jaw before reaching her lips and he pecked her softly, the careful gesture so out of place amongst the fervor.

Iris realized why mere seconds later when he released his grip on her thighs and pushed himself away from the piano, and more importantly, away from her.

She opened her eyes at the absence of him, feeling cold and empty without his heat and weight. Her eyes roamed his figure as he retreated towards the doorway, committing to memory the swell of his lips from her teeth and the ruffle of his hair from her fingers.

“That’s what I thought.” Draco whispered with a tightly clenched jaw.

His eyes bore into hers once, drinking in the sight of her greedily as his hands curled into fists at his side. Speechlessly, Iris watched as he abruptly left the parlor, leaving her on her own to face the consequences of what they had just done—as he had so many times before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops. 
> 
> Much love. xo.


	17. Concealment

**December 31, 1993**

_It was nearing midnight on New Year’s Eve and Iris was in the middle of doing something very, very stupid._

_Snow fell softly from the night sky in tufts, blanketing the ground in an icy white that crunched under her feet. It was cold enough outside that her breath left her mouth in visible puffs and she mumbled a wandless warming charm as she rubbed her gloved hands together._

_The castle loomed behind her as a reminder of not only the numerous school rules she was breaking, but also of the curfew that had been installed for the purpose of protecting the students from the Dementors and Sirius Black. The cloaked ghouls and the escaped murderer were the least of her worries-if she was caught, the fury of Minerva McGonagall is what she feared most._

_Iris’ heart pounded as the voices of the other students that had remained at Hogwarts over the holiday break floated over towards her. Her head snapped in the direction of the noise, but she was far enough away that their heads were blobs in the distance._

_She took a moment to exhale deeply before continuing her trek._

_As Iris carefully treaded down the snow-covered hill that led to the Quidditch stadium, the remaining students, under professor supervision, were congregating around the Clock Tower Courtyard to watch the annual fireworks display Dumbledore put on to celebrate the New Year._

_This was the first year Iris would be celebrating New Year's Eve at Hogwarts, and while she had been thrilled weeks ago at the the prospect of watching the pyrotechnics with her friends, she couldn't care less now. There was a mystery that needed solving and the distraction of the fireworks, as well as Iris’ knowledge of at least four secret corridors that led out of the castle, presented her with the perfect opportunity to solve it._

_She successfully reached the tower of the Quidditch stadium that held the Commentary Box and she looked over her shoulder to be sure no one was following her before beginning the ascent up the wooden stairs. She was grateful for the time away from the castle; her holiday break had been faring disastrously and she was beginning to feel as if the stone-piled walls were closing in on her._

_Ever since a catastrophic row Christmas evening, Iris’ friend group had been split right down the middle. Harry wasn’t speaking to Hermione, which meant Ron wasn’t speaking to Hermione, and Iris wasn’t speaking to either of the boys out of solidarity._

_It all spurred from Hermione’s decision to inform Professor McGonagall of the mysterious Firebolt Harry had received Christmas morning._

_The Firebolt had been addressed to Harry without any acknowledgement of the sender and while that hadn’t bothered Harry, it had bothered Hermione. Professor Lupin had been a probable suspect until Iris described the note he had sent with her Comet 270._

_With the list of possible candidates dwindling, Hermione’s conclusion that the broom could’ve been a hexed gift from Sirius Black did not sound too out of the realm of reason. Iris had stood by her friend when she had gone to McGonagall out of concern for Harry’s safety and the boys had been furious._

_Harry had been out of a broom since his Nimbus 2000 was destroyed by the Whomping Willow during the Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff match. Gryffindor was set to play Ravenclaw later in the year and Harry had seen the Firebolt as renewed hope that Gryffindor could still be a contender for the Inter-House Quidditch cup._

_Harry now perceived Hermione as the destroyer of that hope._

_Ron and Harry had been avoiding the girls like the plague as result, which was proving difficult as there were only handful of students from each House that had remained at the castle for the holidays. Hermione, more hurt over the fact that Ron had taken Harry’s side instead of hers, had refused to leave the dorm to watch the fireworks._

_Iris had stayed by her friend’s side, watching as Hermione dozed off and ultimately ended up snoring with a book on her face. Once she was sure the witch was past the point of easily waking, Iris snuck out of Gryffindor Tower with her black peacoat buttoned tightly against her chest and her crimson and gold knit cap on her head._

_Iris' legs burned by the time she reached the top of the tower and she silently cursed the Wizarding World for refusing to acknowledge the convenience of lifts. S_ _he hurriedly found a seat on a bench tucked away into the corner of the Commentary Box, the tapestry that covered the tower blocked the moonlight from illuminating her position to the **mystery flyer.**_

_God she hoped she hadn't risked expulsion, and very well her life, to unmask a rebellious First Year._

_The mystery flyer had first made their appearance once Hogwarts emptied out for the holiday break. Iris had awoken one night to the sound of someone whizzing around on a broom near Gryffindor Tower, in her frazzled state she was sure Sirius Black was about to come crashing through the dormitory window. Hermione was a deep sleeper and hadn’t moved an inch when Iris rushed to the dormitory window and watched as the flyer swerved in and out of the hoops on the Quidditch pitch._

_The flyer had resumed that routine for the next hour or so, from midnight until well past one o’clock._

_The next night they appeared again and had continued to do so for the past two weeks._

_Desperate for a distraction from the tension within her friend group, Iris had become mesmerized by the mystery witch or wizard. She found herself looking forward to watching the flyer maneuver their broom under the moonlight and she was determined to find out their identity._

_Tomorrow evening, the rest of the students would start returning to Hogwarts to resume term and as the flyer seemed keen on practicing only while the castle was near empty, Iris knew tonight was probably her one chance at unmasking the witch or wizard._

_Iris checked her watch and the time read 11:39PM._

_Butterflies flew in her stomach as she had the gut feeling the flyer would appear any minute._

_Iris was right. Not even a minute later, the flyer appeared near one of the gold Quidditch hoops and she gasped at the sight of them._

_The flyer had on a knit cap that covered the color of their hair and it was too dark for Iris to be able to distinguish what kind of broom they were flying. She watched as they maneuvered through the golden hoops on either side of the stadium, flying ferociously from one end to the other._

_Whoever it was, they had a form in the air that Iris was deeply envious of. They looked as if they were born with the hollow bones of a bird, as if they belonged in the air. Iris hoped beyond reason that the mystery flyer was someone that wouldn’t mind giving her a few lessons._

_The flyer went into a Spiral Dive near the middle of the Quidditch pitch, the Spiral Dive was a tactic commonly used by Seekers to intercept the Snitch, and the familiarity of the move tugged at Iris’ memory._

_The flyer dove until they were mere feet away from the ground and then they shot the broom upwards with a brutality that made Iris grit her teeth. As the flyer rose higher and higher in the sky, their head was forced backwards by the pressure of the wind and the knit cap they had been wearing fell off and drifted slowly to the ground below._

_Iris’ breath hitched in her throat at the sight of short platinum blond hair._

_The flyer halted in the air to observe the Quidditch stadium below and the light from the moon and the stars revealed what Iris had suspected the moment the cap was swept from the flyer’s head._

_“Malfoy?” Iris shouted._

_The echo of her voice resounded throughout the Quidditch stadium and Iris slapped a gloved hand over her mouth. Draco’s head shot in the direction of her voice and he pointed his broom towards the Commentary Box. “Who’s there?” He shouted._

_Iris jumped from her seat and tried hiding underneath the bench in front of her. Her effort proved futile when an overwhelming rush of wind ruffled the tapestries of the Commentary Box and goosebumps rose on her skin at the feeling of being spotted._

_“Christ, Sinclair is that you?” Draco sneered as he hovered outside the Commentary Box on his broom. His head was cocked to one side as he said, “I can see you, you know.”_

_Iris groaned audibly and stood from her hiding spot._

_“Spying on me, are you?” Draco continued. “Potter ask you to gain intel on the enemy? When I see him next, I’ll be sure to report horrific of a job you did.”_

_“Sod off.” Iris narrowed her eyes. “This has nothing to do with Harry. I’ve seen you whirling through the air night after night since break started and my curiosity got the better of me.”_

_Draco laughed. “And I’m expected to believe that?”_

_“I don’t care what you do or don’t believe, Malfoy.” Iris crossed her arms._

_“Hmph.” He regarded her thoughtfully. “So, you snuck out here, Merlin knows how, and in doing so, you broke curfew, risked expulsion and an encounter with the Dementors and Sirius Black, all to figure out who it was that preferred a little late night flying?”_

_“Well, when you put it that way, it doesn’t sound half as thrilling as I had made it out to be in my head.”_

_His lips curled up in amusement, but he stayed silent._

_Iris shifted her feet in discomfort. “Well, now that I have my answer, I’ll be going now.”_

_“Wait.” Draco demanded. “Aren’t you going to ask me why I’ve been practicing out here?"_

_Iris furrowed her brow. “No.”_

_“Why not?”_

_“Because it’s obvious why you’re out here.”_

_Draco rolled his eyes and then jumped off his broom, which continued hovering in the air awaiting his return._

_He stepped towards Iris. “If it’s so obvious, why don’t you tell me?”_

_“If you insist.” Iris met his eyes._

_“I do.”_

_The air was thick with the brief silence that ensued._

_Draco arched an eyebrow, daring Iris to unleash her thoughts._

_“You were just cleared to fly after your arm injury. An injury you inflicted upon yourself." She looked at him pointedly. "You haven’t been able to practice since September so, out of the insecure fear that you might make a fool out of yourself in front of other people, you waited until holiday break to get back on your broom. That is also why you wait until most of Hogwarts is tucked into bed to fly around the grounds. No witnesses equals no public humiliation if it all went wrong. You’re not that hard to figure out, Malfoy.”_

_The intrigue in Draco’s eyes was clear. “None of that is true but I’ll take your testimony into consideration.” He grinned and Iris’ eyes were drawn towards the gentle stretch of his lips. “I’m an excellent flyer, with or without practice, therefore I’ve never been fearful of being inferior or inadequate. As for the timing of my practices. . .” Draco chuckled mid-sentence as he noticed Iris still staring at his lips. “I’ve always been a night owl.”_

_Iris’ cheeks were flushed from more than the cold. “You’re incorrigible.” She remarked as she spun on her heel to head back down the tower. Her mystery had been solved and the answer had turned out to be more disappointing than she could’ve ever imagined._

_“Wait!” Draco shouted from behind her._

_Iris clenched her fists and spun around. “For the love of Merlin, what now?”_

_“Jump on.” He motioned towards his broom that was still hovering outside the Commentary Box._

_“Absolutely not.” Iris refused._

_“Why not?”_ _Draco was genuinely confused._

 _“Why not? Why not?” She threw her hands in the air. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you never fail in reminding every Muggle-Born at this school how lowly you think of their **dirty blood.** You are cruel to the people I care about, vile even, and you seem to be so disgusted by my presence that you haven’t deigned to award me with an insult or a sneer in months. So, forgive me for not wanting to sit on a broom with someone that is more likely to throw me off of it than not.” _

_“I’ve **never** called you a Mudblood.” He stated matter-of-factly. _

_“That is not the point!”_

_Draco rolled his eyes. “Is that all?”_

_Iris exhaled in frustration, similar to a dragon blowing smoke from its nose. “No. Your Dementor imitations are subpar at best.”_

_“Subpar?”_

_“Yes, the hand gestures are ridiculous. A Dementor would never do that.”_

_“The hand gestures were Crabbe’s idea, said he’d seen it in a Muggle film once.” Draco stated and Iris wanted to shake him. “As for the rest, I have no explanations or excuses and you shouldn’t expect any apologies.”_

_“I never expected an apology.” Iris said as she bore her eyes into his._

_“Good.” He smirked. “Now that that’s settled, are you ready? The fireworks will start soon.”_

_He stuck out his hand to guide her towards his broom and Iris was baffled._

_The next morning, she convinced herself that her next move was made solely out of revenge._

_Revenge against Harry and Ron for being so spiteful, for she could’ve been with her friends in the Courtyard that evening if not for them, and revenge against Pansy Parkinson, who shouted the slur **Mudblood** in Iris’ face every chance she got. Pansy would’ve died from envy if she had seen Iris on the back of Draco’s broom. _

_Without another word, Iris stepped forward and placed her hand in Draco’s. By the look on his face, he was in disbelief that she had actually taken him up on his offer._

_Draco’s disbelief quickly morphed into raw joy as he headed back towards his broom and brought Iris with him. He let go of her hand to jump on the broom and then reattached his fingers with hers to pull her up afterwards. The Nimbus 2001 wobbled slightly underneath their combined weight and Iris gripped the handle of the broom to steady herself._

_“Hold onto me.” Draco looked over his shoulder._

_“Don’t push your luck, Malfoy.” Iris warned._

_“Have it your way then.” He said, the amusement clear in his voice._

_Iris was sure that the whole of Scotland could hear her scream as Draco directed his broom upwards towards the sky and shot forward at the speed of light._

_The fireworks lit up the sky as Iris and Draco sat side by side on his broom. They were so close to the explosions from their spot among the castle towers that Iris felt all she had to do was reach out with her fingers and she would be one with the pyrotechnics._

_She felt goosebumps rise on the back of her neck and from instinct, she turned her eyes towards Draco. He had been watching her, instead of the fireworks, and a knot formed in Iris’ stomach as she watched the colorful lights reflect in his eyes._

_“Do you need something?” She arched an eyebrow._

_Draco smiled faintly and tore his eyes from hers. “No.”_

_“Good.” Iris declared as she resumed watching the fireworks._

_“Good.” Draco agreed._

_They spent the next thirty minutes in awestruck silence as they watched explosion after explosion light up the night sky. After the last firework was released from Dumbledore’s wand, Draco flew Iris towards Gryffindor Tower and the witch used Alohomora on the dormitory window._

_Draco laughed quietly as Iris squeezed her body through the too small window, she was sure it hadn't been opened since the thirteenth century the way hinges creaked._

_After a brief struggle, she climbed from the windowsill and landed quietly on the wooden floor. Confident she'd managed to sneak in without waking Hermione, she turned back towards the window to speak to Draco but he was already gone._

**September 18, 2000**

Iris didn’t see Draco again until he barged into her office Monday morning.

She had been carefully examining the case file of a recent robbery, one suspected to be associated with Dark magic, when he thundered through her office door. “Good morning.” He flashed her a mocking grin and then slammed the door shut just as loudly behind him.

“Bloody hell.” Iris gasped for breath, still recovering from the shock of the interruption. “All that training to become the perfect Pureblood heir and they forgot to teach you how to knock.”

“Pureblood heirs don’t have to knock. That’s what servants are for.” He smirked as he made his way towards her desk, his ridiculously shiny black loafers clicked loudly against the hardwood floor. He eyed the file in her hands as he asked, “What are you reading?”

Iris shut the file and slammed it down on her desk, _“What am I reading?”_

“Yes?” He arched an eyebrow.

“I haven’t seen you in two days and you ask me _what I’m reading?”_ Iris stood from behind her desk and Draco instinctively took a step backwards. “You disappeared to Switzerland with your _friend_ Astoria, leaving me with the sole responsibility of arranging and planning out our visit to Hogwarts, and you ask _what I'm reading?_ ”

While Iris had spent the weekend holed up at 12 Grimmauld Place, Draco had disappeared with Astoria early Saturday morning to her family’s chalet in the Swiss Alps.

Iris had only been informed of this through Kreacher who brought her breakfast while she nursed a severe hangover.

In an effort to ignore the sense of abandonment she felt at Draco’s absence, Iris had lost herself within her work on the Regulus case. She had received post from Slughorn and McGonagall confirming her and Draco’s visit to Hogwarts on Tuesday, and had drawn up a set of questions unique to each of their positions. She had even scheduled time in-between the interviews to visit with Hagrid and Neville.

Once that was finished, she spent a significant amount of time comparing the inscription on the inside cover of the copy of _The Little Prince_ with Regulus’ journal.

As Iris had predicted, the handwriting was a match.

She had also discovered that the name Regulus varied in meaning but ultimately translated to _prince_ or _little king_. It was only a hunch, but she had an inkling that the first name of the witch in question was similarly tied to the flower from _The Little Prince_ that Regulus had associated her with.

If Iris’ hunch was right, she could lower the number of potential suspects significantly. She hoped, beyond reason, that Slughorn or McGonagall were able to provide a new lead, or even the smallest semblance of clarity. 

“Fuck, Iris do we have to do this now? Sue me for wanting to relax on my days off.” Draco clenched his jaw as his eyes bore into hers. “If you feel so passionately about my lack of work ethic, why haven’t you filed a complaint with Kingsley? Or is the fact that the root of your frustration has nothing to do with work and everything to do with what happened in the parlor preventing you from doing so?”

Iris’ heart pounded as Draco’s words sparked the memory of his lips on her neck. Her hand instinctively brushed a spot under her jaw where the trail of hickeys he left began.

Every four hours, she had to redo the concealment charm she was using to keep the bruises invisible while they healed.

Draco’s eyes followed her hand and his pupils grew exponentially.

Iris brought her hand back down promptly. “That was a mistake, one that will never happen again. It was the heat of the moment, and was honestly bound to happen, but now that it's out of the way we can continue on as normal. I assumed that you would be on the same page since you disappeared before sunrise that same day.” Iris swiped the case file from her desk and held it out for Draco, he was close enough that manilla folder hit him square in the chest. 

They met eyes briefly, Iris' hand still on the file that now laid against his chest. 

Her heart pounded as he scrutinized her, assessing her words to find the slightest hint of a lie. 

“You assumed correctly.” He swiped the file from her hand.

Iris was unable to prevent the stab of pain in her heart that occurred at his agreement. 

"Good." She asserted as she maneuvered around him, unable to meet his eyes. “You can read the case notes on the way out of the building." She retrieved her jacket from the back of one of the armchairs and motioned for him to follow her. "We’re heading to the crime scene now; Viola Fawley has asked for the two of us personally.”

The overcast clouds above added to the eerie feeling that was present the home of Viola Fawley, an ancient Pureblood witch that lived in Notting Hill. 

Iris and Draco stood side by side on the doorstep and Iris watched as Draco reached out and let the badger-shaped door knocker fall against the front door. 

Members of the Fawley family had been sorted into Hufflepuff since the building of Hogwarts. They were one of the few _Sacred Twenty-Eight_ to do so, an honorific title for the wizarding families that had remained truly _pure_ in their bloodlines.

Iris and Draco stood in silence as they waited for Mrs. Fawley to answer the door and after a couple minutes without an answer, Iris was starting to grow impatient. Sensing it, Draco reached out and lifted the door knocker once more, letting it bang much louder the second time around. 

The case file pertaining to the robbery was still gripped tightly in one of Draco’s hands.

Iris had perused through the contents three times before he had coming storming into her office. It read that after a knock on her front door around ten o’clock last night, Mrs. Fawley had greeted a cloaked figure on her doorstep. The figure held a wand to her throat, forced themselves inside, and then cast _Flipendo._ Mrs. Fawley had hit her head on the edge of decorative table in the corridor, knocking her out cold. When she came to, the intruder was gone. Immediate response Aurors were then dispatched after Mrs. Fawley cast _Periculum_ to signal an emergency and they had briefly surveyed the crime scene before the case had been passed on to Iris. 

“How long does it take to answer the door?” Draco grumbled.

As if on cue, the front door swung open and an elderly woman only a few inches taller than a goblin appeared. A tuft of white hair rested atop her head like a cloud and her eyes were wide with panic as they flicked between Iris and Draco. “Who are you? And why are you here?”

“Ma’am I’m Auror Sinclair.” Iris said calmly and then she motioned towards Draco. “This is Auror-In-Training Malfoy. We’ve been assigned the investigation surrounding the break-in that occurred here last night. We read that you personally requested us for the in-depth questioning.”

The witch’s eyes went wide. “Merlin’s beard! Yes, yes, you’re Iris Sinclair.” Mrs. Fawley focused on Draco. “Yes, yes, I did ask for you too Draco Malfoy, please hurry in.” Mrs. Fawley ushered the pair inside, her eyes surveyed the neighborhood in an anxious manner before doing so. 

“We’re going to die here.” Draco whispered in Iris' ear. 

Iris elbowed him in the side. 

They were greeted with a pungent scent of lavender the further Mrs. Fawley led them in and Iris was reminded of the overwhelming mist of perfume that filled the dormitory the night of the Yule Ball. Draco was put off by the smell as well, massaging his temples to prevent a headache from the overstimulation.

There was also the suffocating presence in the air of Dark magic.

It knocked the air from Iris’ lungs once it hit her and from the expression on Draco’s face, she knew he felt it too.

"How's your Mark?" Iris whispered to Draco, knowing that the Dark Mark tended to act up in the presence of Dark magic. 

"Dormant." He whispered back as he slid the case file into the inner pocket of his jacket. "For now." 

Mrs. Fawley led them to a sitting area that was decorated from floor to ceiling with various herbs and flowers. Rosemary and basil laid in bushels along the shelf above the fireplace, bowls filled with chamomile flowers were scattered throughout, and bay leaves decorated the carpet underneath their feet.

Iris and Mrs. Fawley settled on the loveseat while Draco paced slowly behind them, he was visibly uncomfortable. 

“Mrs. Fawley, how’s your head? The file reads that the intruder jinxed you with _Flipendo_ and the impact caused you to lose consciousness.” Iris met eyes with the witch and goosebumps rose on her arms at the emptiness in her eyes. 

“Oh yes, my head.” Mrs. Fawley dreamily reached a hand up to her temple. “It did hurt but they cast _Episkey_ right away, they were very gentle. They asked for a cup of tea, but they disappeared before I could put the kettle on.”

“One of the Healers at St. Mungo's took care of you and then you offered a cup of tea to the Aurors who found you and then brought you home? Is that what you mean?” Iris asked.

“No dear. The Aurors never took me to St. Mungo's.” Mrs. Fawley squeezed Iris' hand with one of her own and Iris flinched at the witch's freezing cold touch. “My new friend healed me. The one in the cloak. The one I _gave_ the box of Fawley family heirlooms too.”

Draco and Iris met eyes. 

The confusion on their faces mirrored one another. 

“What do you mean the Aurors never took you to St. Mungo's? Are you saying your assailant healed you?" Draco's disbelief was evident." "Mrs. Fawley the Auror Department is under the impression that you almost lost your life because a Dark witch or wizard left you unconscious and then stole your family heirlooms." 

“No, no, no, that’s not what happened.” Mrs. Fawley asserted. “That’s what I had to tell the first witch and wizard to get you here. I told them I needed to see Iris Sinclair and Draco Malfoy. My friend said your names explicitly and then they took care of the Aurors the same why they took care of me. They said, they said . . .” Mrs. Fawley trailed off.

"Took care of the Aurors? Took care of you?” Dread washed over Iris’ body. "Mrs. Fawley, your _assailant_ wanted Draco and I here?" 

Mrs. Fawley smiled and Iris watched as her eyes glazed over.

“Iris, we have to go. Now." Draco demanded.

"No." Iris asserted. "Mrs. Fawley, why? Why were Draco and I brought here?" 

_“It is your own fault, said the little prince. I never wished you any sort of harm, but you wanted me to tame you.”_ Mrs. Fawley giggled as she stared at the ceiling. 

“Draco. . .” Iris slowly backed away from Mrs. Fawley. “I think she’s under the Imperius Curse.”

Draco rushed to Iris' side at the mention of one of the three Unforgivable Curses.

Iris felt foolish for not noticing before as the signs of the curse were evident. Her panicked manner, the absence of defined thought behind her eyes, the hypnotic state she had entered once her task of welcoming Iris and Draco into her home had come to fruition. 

“They wanted me to distract you, to keep you busy.” Mrs. Fawley mused. “They are going to take back what is theirs. They are always watching and they wanted me to warn you to stop searching for what doesn’t want to be found or your loved ones will suffer.”

“Who?!" Draco shouted. "Give us a name!"

“Draco." Iris gritted her teeth. 

“I can’t, I-” Mrs. Fawley squeezed her eyes. “I don’t remem-”

"Was it a man? Was it a woman?" Draco persisted. "Give us something!" 

The glaze of Mrs. Fawley's eyes disappeared and fear replaced it as her eyes widened at the sight of Iris and Draco. "Who are you? Why are you in my house? GET OUT!" Mrs. Fawley screamed and the bowls holding the chamomile flowers shattered.

Draco threw himself at Iris to protect her from the shards of porcelain that flew across the room. He pushed the two of them onto the floor away and shielded her body with his, waiting until the room quieted to remove his body from hers. Flowers and the remains of the bowls were scattered about the room and when Iris glanced at Mrs. Fawley, the hair rose on the back of her neck. 

Iris watched in horror as Mrs. Fawley breathlessly gasped for air, her arms outstretched towards Iris and Draco as if begging for their help. As Iris and Draco scrambled to their feet, Mrs. Fawley’s eyes rolled into the back of her head and she collapsed against the cushions of the loveseat.

"Mrs. Fawley!" Iris shook the witch's shoulders to try and wake her. When she stayed still, Iris bent down and leaned her head on the witch's chest-her heart was still beating. 

Iris stood and retrieved her wand from the pocket of her trousers. She enchanted Mrs. Fawley with a weak Stamina charm and could only hope that would be enough to keep the witch’s body fighting until she was in the hands of real Healers.

Iris shoved her wand back into her pocket and looked at Draco who was watching the exchange with a horrified expression. “Draco, she's still alive and I need you to take her to St. Mungo’s." She pleaded. "I have to get to Grimmauld Place, Kreacher could be in danger. Whoever wanted us distracted is going after the journal and the book and if they've truly been watching us all this time, they know exactly where to go."

“No.” Draco closed the gap between them. “I’m not letting you run into a danger alone.”

“You don’t _let_ me do anything." Iris stepped backwards. "I’m your superior, do as I say, or I will be the first one to inform Kingsley that your personal feelings led to the death of a civilian. Do you understand?"

“Do I understand?” Draco growled from frustration. “Your safety is my priority, Iris. I’ll cast _Periculum_ so others know to find her but my place, as your partner on this case, is at your side.”

“It’ll be too late by the time others get here.” Iris pleaded. “I will never forgive you if you leave her behind. Please Draco, take her to St. Mungo’s, and then you can meet me at the townhome as soon as she’s in the hands of the Healers.”

Draco ran his hands through his hair and pulled at the strands, his eyes flicking from Iris to Mrs. Fawley intensely. “Fuck, I hate you sometimes.” He ground his teeth as his eyes burned into hers. “Go, go now, before I change my mind and let this old bat die.”

“Thank you.” Iris cried and, with the reluctant assurance that Draco would take care of Mrs. Fawley, she spun on her heel and ran out the front door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter went through so many rewrites I can't even begin to express how much of a relief it is to have it published. I must say the love for this story has grown beyond my wildest expectations. I see every kudo, every comment, every bookmark, and every subscription, and it fills my heart with so much joy. 
> 
> You guys are amazing. 
> 
> Much love. xo.


	18. PLEASE CHECK "CHAPTER 9" FOR STORY NOTICE

Thank you.   
Much love. xo. 


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